A Moment Echoes
by Lamentha
Summary: Belle returns to Beast a moment too late, listen as the moment echoes through a castle, and see what becomes of them in consequence. For everyone who wishes Beast had never changed. I'm going to do my best to ensure that this is a fiction of quality.
1. Chapter 1

_In her grief, the thunder and rain pale in comparison to the sharp pain of guilt, of coming too late, realizing too late, the truth._

_She opened her mouth to say the words, stopped her self, not knowing if he would hear, not knowing if he would care, and in her hesitation the last petal fell…_

"I love you…"

_In her moment of pause, a crucial moment passed, and the winds of forgiveness passed warmly by her beloved Beast to shed the servants of the castle of his curse._

----

Belle sits at his bedside, flipping futilely through the pages of one of the novels piled on the night table at her elbow. So preoccupied was she that it took Mrs. Potts's fleshy hand resting on her shoulder to pull her from her thoughts.

"Huh?"

Mrs. Potts repeated her question gently,

"Would you like another tea dear?"

Looking into Mrs. Potts aged, round face; her human face, Belle felt the same sense of bewilderment as she had the first time, hearing that familiar voice coming from such a different being.

"N-no, thank you…Mrs. Potts," She paused a moment, and asked the question she'd been asking continuously for three days.

"When do you suppose he'll be waking up?"

Mrs. Potts sighed softly, and turned to her service trolley to pour the hot liquid and assorted condiments into a cup.

"It could be any time now, Belle; Lumiere and Clocks both said there was a great deal of blood on the balcony, once they managed to get him into the castle…"

Mrs. Potts placed a steaming cup beside Belle, not quite meeting the brunette's eyes. Belle made no comment, remembering all too well, her hysterical efforts to protect her beloved from the two foreign men who had come running towards him. Screaming and clawing at what she had assumed were stragglers from the angry mob Gaston had raked up.

Mrs. Potts pulled a chair from a near-by writing desk and placed it next to Belle, sitting down on it with a flump.  
The older women sucked a few loose grains of sugar from her thumb with a smack,  
"They are both healing up well too, incase you were curious," Mrs. Potts rolled smiling eyes to Belle, just in time to see a smirk light up the younger women's face, followed quickly by a snort of laughter.

Mrs. Potts gave an inward sigh of relief, Belle had been the picture of grief and remorse since that night, for more than one reason. The older women stole a glance at her master's sleeping face.  
"I think his color's coming back, look, he's a deeper shade of golden brown at his temples, don't you think?"

At this both women began to truly laugh, Belle's high, loud guffaw, and Mrs. Potts softer, deeper chortle, mingling into a heart lifting sound of hope and healing in the quiet room.

Once their laughter had dispersed into soft chuckles, Belle picked up one of the many books she had brought from the library, her face now serious but light, she parted the pages to a marked paragraph.

"I really do think he's doing better now," Belle pointed to a loopy scrawl in the margins of the heavy tome. "See, the book says that you can tell the health of the ah-uh…" She faltered at the word the book had used, animal, in description of Beast.

"-Subject?" Mrs. Potts interjected, taking spectacles from her apron pocket, to peer at the tiny print that Belle was referring to."Yes, thank you, it says here that the sheen of the ah..."

Mrs. Potts looked over her the top of her glasses and into Belle's face, and gave the younger women the word she did not want to say, voice neutral, but firm.

"Fur"

Belle winced, and looked away.  
"Belle," Mrs. Potts chided softly, "there's no harm in the truth of it, and the rose is done, so as far as we know he'll be a… he'll be like this forever, but—"

"Wait," Belle interrupted "The rose?"

Mrs. Potts took a breath, "The terms of the spell were that he learn to love, and be loved in return, before the last petal fell."

Belle's eyes widened and she turned to look Mrs. Potts in the face. "But I _do _love him, I _did_, I—"

The elder women chortled, leaning forward and taking one of Belle's hands between each of her own. "Darling, we know, I doubt you'd have been sitting here in this chair if you didn't."

"But then why—"

Mrs. Potts stood with a groan, stretching her back with a soft pop.

"Because spells are precarious, moody things; why did I continue to age even as a teapot? That's what _I'd_ like to know; before the spell I had a few good years left in me, but now… Well." Mrs. Potts smoothed her dress around her large hips and sighed wistfully. "Chip is the same age he was, at least in body, and I'm thankful for that, can you imagine trying to force an _adolescent_ to bathe? Ugh."

As the mother turned to her trolley and began to push towards the door, her aged ears managed to hear Belle whisper one more question.

"Do you think he'll blame me?"

The older women stopped for a moment, and paused to consider,

"I can't rightly say, poppet, but I do know, that it will mean the world to him that you're even here."

With that last bit Mrs. Potts stepped around her cart and opened the door to the hallway for herself, pulling it after her as she left.

"I'll be back with sandwiches around noon dear."

"Thank You" Belle murmured as she gazed at Beast, _her_ Beast, lost in thought and suddenly something occurred to her.

"Wait!" She twisted around in her seat and cried at the closed door, she quickly got up to follow Mrs. Potts into the hallway.

Belle caught up with the silver-haired women quickly, and asked "What is his name?"

"What?"

"His name, he was hu- he must have had a true name before he turned into…"

Mrs. Potts froze for a beat, as if recalling something long forgotten, and stored away in the back of her mind.

"Adam"

With one question answered dozens more came rushing into Belle's mind, she burned to know the full extent of what she had done. But they froze in her throat, stuck, unutterable, her mouth seemed to know better than her mind that the answers would only increase her guilt and suffering.

Belle was still, her mind churning, and Mrs. Potts continued to speak.

"But you'd best not call him that Deary, he asked us all not to refer to him by that name…when he changed, it's a matter of family honor you understand. He wouldn't want the shame of a curse on his family's crown."

"Shame?" Belle responded in a stunned voice, injustice steadily grew in her tone as she continued to speak. "Why is he shamed for what some wicked creature cast on him?"

Mrs. Potts looked at a loss for what to say, mouth slightly open and eyes averted, she wasn't quite sure if the story of the prince turning away an old woman into the snow was something Belle was ready to hear.

She opted for a quick exit.

"Let's not talk about all that now, later if you will. I do have to serve tea to the rest of the castle." She turned to bustle away a few yards but then turned quickly back to suggest.

"But let's not mention those questions to him, once he is awake, hm? I believe the trauma of his memories would hinder his recovery…"

Having planted her tiny seed, Mrs. Potts continued down the hall, hoping that Belle would take her warning seriously, and give her time to discuss with Lumiere and Clocks what Belle should know, and what could be glossed over.

After all, they did not know what would happen, if Belle stopped loving their Beast.


	2. Chapter 2

Belle peeked over her book again to look at his face. When she had first arrived at the castle, had first realized the…_unique_ form of her father's captive, she'd made sure to keep her face clear of scrutiny, her looks at Beast subtle, never truly satisfying to her intense curiosity and wonder.

Now she was free to look, as often and long, as deeply as she wished, to awe over the marvelous being who had somehow managed to sneak her heart away.

All the same she felt guilty. Every murmur and facial change from his sleeping form sent two separate sparks through her: the rekindling of hope that he might wake and forgive her for her late arrival, her stupidity that had led Gaston and his men right to him, and the impulse to hide her staring behind her book.

Book after book was piled around her, adorned with bright pieces of paper fit between their pages, signifying paragraphs, illustrations, pages of information that she used to puzzle together how Beast's health was doing. None of her searches gave her any conclusive answer; so singular was he that not one creature held more than two of his traits, and therefore he was undefined medically. It seemed to her that the maleficent warlock who had cast this curse wasn't even able to make a firm decision on what the prince's new body would be sculpted towards.

Belle had managed to identify certain things from an "Encyclopedia Of Land Oriented Mammals" As it were, he seemed to be a mix of Lion, Buffalo, and of course Homo Sapien.

There was extensively more information on the care and sicknesses of lions than buffalo, and the book informed her that the temperature of the pads located on the paw, the sound of breathing, and heart rate were the best indicators of health. Belle religiously kept a notebook on changes in each of these, and informed the castle's physician of them every day the man came in.

The physician would listen to her politely," and would then re-check all these things for himself, using tools that Belle was not familiar with, and obviously gave more accurate results. Afterwards he excused her from the room, in order to clean and care for the prince, inspect and re-dress the accumulatively less infected stab wound., and slowly spoon the proper foods to the unconscious body as it did its work to heal. Belle took the time she had away from the prince to go to the library, wondering as she looked through the shelves, "Why do I keep trying to do the doctor's job? I'm not really helping." But then her mind would replay the blooming sensation that had happened in her stomach when she pressed her head lightly against his broad chest and listened to the steady thunder of his heart. The way her heart had fluttered when she lay her hand in his palm, feeling the downy fur between the black swells of flesh, slightly rough from supporting his weight during the angry paces he made on all fours on stone floors, she supposed. Goodness, his hands were big; her hand seemed tiny in comparison, pale and feminine.

She'd trace her way to the ends of his fingers and gently hook her finger nail onto the very tip of a mostly hidden claw; if she tugged just lightly it would extend to a shocking two inches, sharp and black.

No, maybe her minor explorations of Beast were not very effective, medically, but her daily touches woke something in her that was new, previously unfelt. It was as if by allowing herself to study him, she could also study these new feelings.

She'd add another book or two to her arms, and return down the hallways she had come, armed with knowledge, and renewed in her wish to solve the mysteries that stuck in her mind.

She had been born curious, and to leave these things unknown was unacceptable.

As Belle came to the last turn preceding the stretch of wall that led to the prince's healing room, she heard soft voices speaking: Cogsworth's slightly affected lilt mingling with the doctor's professional tone. The marble hallway carried their conversation to her, and what it held surprised her enough to stop and listen.

The doctor's voice was disbelieving. "He's healing faster than he should, faster than it's possible to heal; the knife was _completely_ embedded in his mid-back, twisted, and now it's almost completely closed, the infection _disappeared _overnight—"

Cogsworth cut in, "But that doesn't _have _to mean there's magic involved, does it?"

"I don't think there's any other explanation for it!"

"Perhaps he just heals faster than most?"

The doctor spoke slowly now. "Mr. Cogsworth, perhaps you do not understand. Where there was once a gaping and fatal wound there is now not even a _scar._ No mere body can do this. Which leads to the inevitable conclusion that—"

"_She_ is still involved," Cogsworth finished, horror in his voice. "That this curse isn't over yet. Oh, no."

"Now, now, _if _she is directly involved in His Majesty's rapid healing, then her presence has been benevolent…"

Belle stepped into view, startling both men. "Benevolent?" she said angrily, "If it weren't for her he wouldn't be in this situation!"

Cogsworth looked stunned, while the aged doctor looked at her impassively. "That, young lady, is debatable." He looked to Cogsworth. "I will return tomorrow to feed him." He gave Belle a stiff bow and left up the hall, away from them both.

Miffed at the doctors demeanor and the implication of his reply, Belle looked to Cogsworth with questioning eyes, "What is he talking about, Cogsworth? Who else could be responsible for what _she_ did? …He doesn't blame Beast does he?"

Cogsworth looked slightly panicked. "Ahh, well, mmm," he stammered. He looked down at his wrists and straightened his cuffs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "He may think that way, but people are certainly entitled to think many things about many situations, without being correct, which doesn't necessarily mean that they're wrong…" Suddenly he seized his pocket watch and flipped it open. "Oh, goodness!" he cried, "Is that the time? I must go! _Adieu_!" He turned and ran, surprisingly fast for a man his size, down the hall the doctor had gone.

Belle stood, alone and slightly confused. She took the few extra steps needed and opened the door to the room where Beast was sleeping. Sighing softly, she added her new selections to the pile of reading material already stacked on the night table. She tucked the sheets of his bed around his still form, not worried about drafts as much as she was at a loss for what else to do.

Mrs. Potts had thoughtfully had a comfortably overstuffed chair placed in the room, once Belle had made clear that she insisted on staying at Beast's side. Belle sat down on it now and her eyes traced the intricate designs bordering the ceiling as she pondered the strange behavior of her friends in the castle these days. Mulling over things, she felt slightly uneasy with the thought that something might be amiss, and lay her hand on one of the novels she had borrowed, finding comfort in the subtle texture of the cloth covering the hard sides of the tome.

Sleeping, Beast snorted and rolled over, and the sheets covering him shifted, leaving his back exposed to her. The movement brought Belle's eyes to him, and something from the conversation she had overheard came back to her.

"…_where there was once a gaping and fatal wound there is now not even a scar"_

Suddenly, without much thought, Belle got up from her seat, and walked over to inspect for herself, kneeling before the bed. After the slope that seemed to join his head to his back, there was an area in his fur that had been trimmed for the sake of hygiene and ease of cleaning the wound. Looking straight at it now, Belle could see no scar, no discoloration, nothing that would hint to there having ever been any breaking of skin.

Belle had received many minor abrasions as a child, forging through the forests and meadows surrounding her home for the adventure she had always craved had left her small reminders of cuts, and scrapes, on her skin. Even as completely inexperienced as she was in the field of medicine she knew from her own experiences that the doctor was right: no normal body could heal this way.

Her thoughts turned again to the Enchantress. The picture she had held in her mind of a purely evil being, a warlock of infinite malice and a empty black heart, was suddenly called into question. Now Belle considered a witch with at least enough soul in her to make amends for her wickedness, but even this felt inaccurate, or somehow incomplete. Absentmindedly she ran her thumb gently over the somewhat stubbly feeling patch of shortened fur as her mind continued to wander.

Quick footsteps sounded outside the door, jarring her from her thoughts. Panicking without reason, she flung herself towards her chair. Her heart slammed itself into her throat as the chair tipped back onto its hind legs in response.

The door slammed open just as the chair regained its balance. Lumiere stood in the doorway, radiating his individual flare and confidence, holding up a shining silver tray with one arm, and a white cloth dangled over his other.

"_Bonjour!_" he greeted her heartily, "and how is our favorite lady tod-" he interrupted himself when he saw Belle's surprised face, "_Pardon moi, Mademoiselle,_ I did not mean to frighten you."

Mentally scolding herself, she responded, "Oh, you didn't, I…I was napping. What do you have there?"

Unbothered by her sudden change in topic, Lumiere smiled warmly and balanced the tray on the questionable support of the books resting atop of the small table, allowing her to see the neat pile of light sandwiches, accompanied by two cups of soup.

Amused, Belle lifted a elegant brow at Lumiere, "I think this is a bit too much for me,"she said with a smile.

Lumiere gave her a friendly wink. "I thought such a lovely lady might like some company with her meal," he said with affected flirtatiousness. He leaned towards her, then lifted his hand to shelter his mouth and looked behind himself, as if wary that the prince might be listening. He mock-whispered, "Perhaps we can rouse him with jealousy, hmm?"

Belle giggled softly at his display, and played along in whispering back. "It's certainly worth a shot."

Smiling in satisfaction, Lumiere lifted a wooden chair at a writing desk and placed it opposite of Belle.

"Ahh," he said as he sat down, "Not exactly the feast we gave on your first night here, but it will have to do."

"It's just fine," Belle countered happily. "From what I understand, there isn't enough staff to put on a show like that anymore."

Lumiere selected a sandwich from the pile and dipped it in his soup. "True." He took a bite and continued after swallowing. "Many have left, now that the spell is broken. They have legs to carry them and they are free to go."

"What about you?"

"I am happy to stay. Babette is here, and so are my friends. I have spent too many years here to just leave, _non?_ This is my home." A smile grew on his face as he looked around the room. "And I doubt I could ever find a home as impressive as this castle, am I right?" Belle finished chewing, and sipped her soup, following his gaze, silently agreeing. "What about you, _mon cher?"_ Lumiere went on, leaning forward slightly and raised his eyebrows. "The entire castle has been wondering if you are staying for good…"

Belle shifted in her seat, looking down at her bowl thoughtfully. She had already made her decision nights ago on the balcony, but it was more difficult to put into words.

"Yes. I am," she said simply, and took another sip of her soup. Belle hoped that he wouldn't ask the obvious questions that she had not yet been able to ask herself.

Lumiere looked overjoyed. _"Merveilleux!_ Angelique has been pestering the entire staff with wedd-"

Belle felt her stomach seize. "Lumiere, what happened on the night Beast changed?" she asked quickly, not allowing him to finish his sentence. Lumiere blinked. She continued. "No one has told me, and- and I need to know, I can't, it makes me nervous, why won't anyone tell me?"

Lumiere sighed. "It is not a happy story, mademoiselle. It led to many dark years for all of us. Naturally we would wish to put it behind us."

Belle looked down at her hands resting lightly on the table. "Oh," she said softly, "I feel silly now, that I was so worried…" She smiled sheepishly and looked up to Lumieres face, "I guess I'd heard so little about it, I just assumed the worst…"

Lumiere smiled back to her and patted Belle's hand, "No worries, with the prince in such a state , spending all your time in this room, it would put anyone in a tizzy, no?"

Lumiere stood up. "Well, it is time for me to take my leave." He bowed deeply to Belle, and she inclined her head in return. He took his bowl, and said "I'll return later for your dishes, and they had better be empty!" He waggled his finger at her. "The way you nibble at your food, the Prince will not be able to recognize you when he wakes up!" Belle smiled.

Lumiere closed the heavy door behind him and scratched at a spot on the porcelain bowl in his hands as he walked down the hallway, to the kitchen.

'I must remind the kitchen staff to take more care with their cleaning' he thought to himself, 'the Prince will waken soon enough, and the wedding will be shortly after…Angelique will have their heads for such infractions.' He chuckled and shook his head, making his way to the staircase.

As he took hold of the banister, he glanced at his newly-reborn fingers, long and graceful, hands that he'd missed so greatly as a candelabrum. He and Babette celebrated their reappearance each night, among other key body parts, since the spell had been broken. He stood still for a moment and let recent memory flood his mind with details: sensual lips accompanied by a characteristic mole, hipbones that only barely hinted at their shape beneath warm, lightly scented flesh. His skin erupted into goose bumps. _Oh yes,_ he thought _As soon as the Prince awakens, the wedding will take place. _


	3. Chapter 3

Belle stood up from her seat to remove the tray from atop her books, and set it down on the chair Lumiere had left near the table, while her inner thoughts whirled.

_It all makes sense now, no reason to worry, no one is hiding anything, paranoid, nothing's wrong… of course they don't want to talk about it, I suppose I wouldn't want to talk about the night I was turned into a pot, or a candelabra, or…_

She peeked up from aged, dusty pages, to look at him again.

_Wedding…_

Taking in his features, she tried to imagine waking up next to a body that was more animal than human, though it made her blush to think of it. She knew that the townspeople would think the worst—would think he, and their union, were revolting.

_They tried to KILL him, _she reminded herself._ There's no way that I can be married there anyway. They think he's a monster._

_And he'll probably feel the same way._

Her stomach twisted in a fashion that was becoming familiar to her. Guilt ate at her.

_Surrounded by all these human faces, and him permanently changed, and no one to blame but-_

Beast snarled from the bed, loud and terrifying, causing Belle to jump out of her chair in fright. Facing him, she realized that his eyes were still closed.

_Oh, he's having a nightmare._

She relaxed and held the thick old book she'd been reading to her chest as she watched him lash out at his invisible antagonist, claws fully extended and making gouges in the bed clothes. His face shifted quickly from rage to despair, his hand fell to the mattress, causing a few liberated feathers to fall to the floor. Beast mumbled unintelligibly in a keening voice, as if pleading for something.

Feeling that it was safe to approach, and knowing that the doctor would have heard Beast's sound of distress and would arrive at any time to help her if need be, she gathered a bowl of cool water and a soft rag from a cabinet across the room.

Belle kneeled down at the bedside, allowing the linen to absorb the water. Gently, she rubbed it over his closed eyes, on his protruding lower lip, and behind his velveteen ears. Gently, Beast pressed his face into the soothing touch, and gave a great shuddering sigh. Warm breath ran up the inside of Belle's long sleeve, caressing her wrist, breathing life into a growing flame within her. A wave of tender feelings swelled in her belly and her chest, and she lowered her face to his, pressing a kiss to the arch of his thick, heavy brow.

Blue eyes were looking wearily up at her when she pulled away.

"Belle…"

Her eyes widened.

"You're still…" Beast's deep, powerful voice sounded raspy from lack of use and dry throat. He licked his lips and continued, "You're _here._"

Belle felt the tears come, blurring her vision and narrowing her throat. Just as Mrs. Potts had predicted, all the redemption she could have ever wished for were in those two words.

"Of course," she replied. "Of course I'm still here." She wrapped her arms around his cumbersomely thick neck as best she could. And she held him with all her heart. "I'm so sorry," she muffled into the ruffs of thick fur around his neck "I'm sorry I ever left."

"No" Beast said quietly, "The thing…that really matters…is that you came…back." While he spoke he lifted one of his arms to rest his hand gently on her shoulder, as if unsure of what else would be acceptable.

What he truly wished to do was pull her into the bed with him, to wrap his arms around her tightly, to never let her leave again. Had not the smallest movements been so difficult for him, he may have even tried.

In the fever dreams of his three-day sleep, Beast had witnessed many terrible and wonderful things. Time had been fluid and reality blurred. Many times Gaston had won the battle, hurting Belle while Beast was helpless to stop it. Many times Beast had won the battle, been relieved of his curse, happily married and well loved.

He hoped desperately that this moment was real. Her smell was everywhere, all around him and pervading the room, mixed with the smell of…

Beast's stomach rumbled loudly when he recognized the scent of Mrs. Potts' deviled ham, embarrassing him greatly. "Sorry," he said gruffly.

Belle sat up and laughed softly, wiping her eyes. "Would you like something to eat? I have sandwiches; they're fresh."

"I know."

Belle wondered for a moment, and then quickly realized how he must have known and decided not to comment. She got up from the floor and retrieved a sandwich from the tray, almost turning away before putting it back and simply taking the tray with her. When she turned around, Beast was struggling to sit up. Apparently his earlier battle had twisted his sheets around him, and his face showed a lack of tolerance with this difficulty. Belle placed the tray at the foot of his bed and joined him in his efforts.

"What's wrong… with me?" he said slowly, his voice slurred.

Belle felt her insides freeze.

"Gaston stabbed you, you bled… a lot…" She paused, not quite sure how his illness had affected him or how to explain it. "The doctor doesn't speak to me very much, but he'll be here soon to-"

The doors burst open suddenly, and the doctor himself sprinted in, black leather bag clinking lightly beside him. "_What_ are you _doing_, woman?" he cried. "His Majesty has been ingesting bland fluids for three days and you are going to feed him _a tray of sandwiches_?"

Beast seemed struck. "Monsieur Reginald?"

The doctor looked towards Beast with eyes of blazing disapproval. "Lie back _down,_ Your Majesty. I will excuse the young woman and then we can conduct our business."

Beast looked around dazedly, confused on where the 'young woman' the doctor had so flippantly referred to might be standing. Of course the doctor could not have spoken about _Belle_ in such a manner?

But Belle was leaving, shepherded by the doctor's hands.

"I didn't mean any harm," she attempted to explain.

"Of course not," replied Reginald in a sarcastic tone, "You, an uneducated _woman,_ were merely trying to care for grievously injured royalty without any guidance whatsoever."

"It was just sandwiches!" Belle said indignantly, but the man was already shutting the door behind her.

Belle's mind raced as she stood fuming in the hallway. "What an awful man!" she said aloud, contempt dripping from her voice. "If Gaston had been a doctor…" she muttered to herself as she went towards the library, not sure what to look for now that Beast was awake.

---

Beast looked towards the door, not quite understanding what had just happened. The foggy feeling that one wakes up with after having overslept was wrapped thickly around him.

"Belle…?" he said, his voice fading, "Where…?"

His eyelids felt heavy, and although his stomach still called for Mrs. Potts' sandwiches, he felt himself giving in to the warm pull of sleep again. It had not yet occurred to him that his childhood physician had transformed into a human again and he had not. He drifted into dreams without thinking what that might imply.

--

"_Parfaite_!" Lumiere cried.

Babette smiled proudly as she maneuvered her pancake to do yet another flawless flip in the air, landing back into the pan it had originated from neatly.

"I might be able to feed you yet," she purred, "Although it's a little late for breakfast…"

Lumiere's hands were wrapped around her slender waist as he stood behind her. He inhaled deeply through his nose as Babette leaned into him, letting the pan rest on the stove.

"It could not be helped," he said playfully, "You cannot rush nature."

"Mmm," Babette replied, pulling his head gently closer for a kiss. "Who would want to?"

Their faces were just inches apart when Cogsworth rushed through the wooden door that led to the kitchen. "The master!" he hollered, causing the pair to look at him in disdain. Cogsworth realized what he had walked in on and cleared his throat, looking a little bashful. "He's awake. I, ah, I thought the castle might want to know," he said to the ceiling. Then he turned and shut the door behind him.

Cogsworth had officially informed the entire castle's remaining inhabitants of the Prince's regained consciousness. Now that the task was done however, he floundered at what else there was to do. Before the curse, his job had been to organize the overwhelming swarms of maids, attendants and servants. It had been an exciting, demanding job for an excitable and demanding man. The number of them that had gone on to different lives after the curse was lifted had left him with very little to manage. He was surprised to find himself empty without the chaos, a nagging loneliness that was now more acute than it ever had been.

_Perhaps Mrs. Potts is about; we'll have some tea and be lonely together._

He walked into the dining room. The grand windows filled the room with striking afternoon sunshine. The long polished table gleamed, and he was surprised to find Mrs. Potts sitting at the end of it, patting her styled hair.

"Mrs. Potts! You look lovely," he said as he walked to where she was sitting. "Planning to take a day off with a handsome fellow?" he said jokingly, sitting down at the table next to her.

Mrs. Potts seemed bashful. "Well, actually…"

There was a faint voice at the end of the hall that led to the front door. "Mrs. Potts?"

Mrs. Potts stood up quickly; her face was full of excitement. "Maurice! I'm in the dining room!" she called.

"Where's the dining room?"

"I'll be right there!" she replied, laughter in her voice.

When Mrs. Potts turned back to Cogsworth, he was looking at her aghast. "When did this come about?"

Mrs. Potts touched her cheek softly, "It was rather sudden, but…" She looked wistfully back towards Maurice's direction. "Well, I'd better be going, before he gets lost looking for me."

"But…" Cogsworth sputtered, but Mrs. Potts was already making her way towards the hall.

"If you want any tea, there's some on the stove," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be back soon."

"I'm certainly not very likely to go back to the kitchen," Cogsworth muttered, unheard. He rested his elbow on the table and perched his chin atop his hand, looking down at his reflection in the polished surface. "I suppose everyone's paired off then." He glared down at himself. "I was better off as a blasted _clock._"


	4. Chapter 4

Beast was awakened by the sudden movement his sheets made as they were flung from him

Beast was awakened by the sudden movement of his sheets being flung from him. He grunted and looked groggily about, trying to find where they had landed.

A haughty voice began to speak. "Oh good," it said. "Perhaps now that you are able to _move about_ so freely, _despite_ my strict orders not to do so, I will not have to bear the _complete _burden of your weight as I bathe you."

These words confused Beast, as the tone reminded him of his childhood doctor's. But he clearly remembered that the doctor had been turned into a thermometer. This voice was coming from too far up to possibly be a thermometer; it was at least the height of a man.

Beast paused for a moment as he thought this through, his ear twitching forward and then back, and he finally turned his head to solve this mystery. His eyes rested on Dr. Reginald's back as the man, turned away from Beast, wet a rag in a bowl of steaming water. Beast blinked and looked to his own hands, observing the powerfully angular shape of his knuckles as he flexed them, the abnormal length of his padded fingers, the tips of his claws.

The fog in Beast's mind vanished completely, and the glaring light of the truth seared him.

When the doctor turned back towards Beast he was startled to see the monstrous form towering over him.

"WHAT HAS HAPPENED?" Beast bellowed. The doctor clutched at his chest and seemed to faint, falling to the floor heavily. The panic and crushing clarity in Beasts' mind made the colors in the room around him sharp and unbearable; he barreled to the door on all fours, crashing through them. Lumiere and Babette jumped away from the doors just as they burst open.

"Sacre Bleu!" Lumiere whispered in horror as Beast turned to look at them. The expression on his furred face was one of crazed despair. His wide blue eyes traveled over them as they clutched each other: fully limbed, man and woman, pink fleshed.

"No!" Beast cried. "No, no, NO!" His last syllable came out in a mighty roar as he struck the floor with his fists. He felt as though the air was hot and heavy all around him. He was unable to breathe it. His chest heaved to compensate. Pressure…in his mind, there was so much pressure, crushing him, making him dizzy.

Books fell from Belle's arms and lay abandoned on the floor as she sprinted towards Beast's voice. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._ The words repeated in her mind like a mantra as she ran.

He heard her footsteps as she came down the hall. He turned to face her, and her expression of heartbreak broke his anger. The weight of his panic shifted and released him. He sank to the ground in exhaustion and despair. His vision was suddenly impaired by tears that would have otherwise shamed him.

"_Why_?" he implored in a strained and throaty voice. "If it was going to be like this, why did you let me _live?_"

Belle kneeled before him, placing her hands on either side of his face, her fingers gently winding into the fur there. She met his eyes. She whispered, "I don't want to be without you."

Beast looked away, down to his hands, the leathery black pads of flesh that rested on his palms. He closed his eyes. "You can't… care about, me, like this. I'm-"

Belle cut him short, finishing his sentence, "--the man I love, the man I'm going to marry." Her voice was strong and sure, leaving no room for argument. Even while her insides tightened.

Beast's eyes darted back to her, ears perked. "What?"

Lumiere cut in, "Oh ho! There are to be _two_ weddings then."

Belle looked at him in confusion. "Two? Who else is getting…?" Belle trailed off as she realized that Lumiere and Babette's arms were still linked.

Beast suddenly felt dazed. Now that the power of his anger was gone, he felt weak. He wanted to speak to Belle alone, but the words wouldn't form, and he might pass out before he got the chance. Both Babette and Lumiere had become so used to his emotional outbursts that neither of them seemed to be affected. They chatted amiably about wedding details that needed planning. Beast looked over at Belle, his eyes meeting hers, and saw that she also seemed anxious.

"Uhh…" Beast began.

"Could we have some privacy for a little while?" Belle requested gently to the standing couple. "We need to talk about some things…alone."

A look of realization came over Lumiere's face. He put his arm around Babettes' waist and began to subtly lead her away from the two sitting on the ground. "But of course," he said in a conversational tone, giving Babette a look when she turned to him with a questioning expression. As they walked away, their footsteps echoed with the silence of withheld whispers.

Once they had gone, Belle looked sheepishly at Beast. "Um, do you want to go back to the room, or…?"

"Yeah," Beast answered, slowly, as if afraid that too much sound would take back what had just happened. Belle rose up from her kneel and offered a hand to Beast. Beast took it, but stood up on his own, knowing she couldn't help him up. No one could.

He felt dizzy on his feet, but he would have rather fallen flat on the floor than walk on all fours in front of her. Especially now.

They returned to the room that had been Beast's sickroom and shut the door behind them. Both were silent, insecurities and questions hanging in the air between them. They glanced at each other as they both wondered what to say. Beast scratched behind a twisted horn, looking at the floor and noticing, for the first time, that Belle was not wearing stockings. He wondered absentmindedly if she the rest of her body was as pale as her ankles.

Belle ventured first, "I didn't mean to sound pushy. I just sort of assumed that you would want to also. Because that's what people do when they love—"

She was cut off by a long feeble groan coming from beneath the table. Belle spun around to face the sound and gasped. "Doctor!" She hurried to the table and bent down to look at him, not noticing the look of discomfort on Beast's face, "Are…you all right?" she asked. "What happened?"

Despite his weakened state, the doctor still managed to summon up his characteristic sarcasm in reply. "I was checking the floor for mites, and decided to take a nap." He looked at her with disdain. "What does it look like?" He pushed himself shakily up, letting out a low moan as something in his body popped.

Belle spoke softly but intensely. "There's really no need to be so rude."

The Doctor turned to Beast, as if Belle had not spoken. "Your Majesty, should you wish to truly recover from your injuries, I suggest that you not welcome any chatty help into these chambers while you are still resting."

Beast, somewhat miffed, looked over to Belle and saw the scowl on her face. He looked back at the doctor "Who are you talking about?" His voice was stormy, and his shoulders hunched defensively.

The doctor backpedaled, "No one in particular, Your Highness. Perhaps you'd like to lie down now? I'm sure all of this… activity has left you tired." The old man's voice seemed to hover between neutrality and patronization, not quite giving himself over to a tone that might provoke anger from the prince.

Very tired, but not wanting to follow the suggestions of a man that Belle obviously didn't like, Beast huffed and stood straight. "No" he said, "but I want you to leave now." He paused, wanting to say something clever or witty, but words fell away from him.

The doctor blinked. Sounding astonished, he said, "I've yet to bathe you, Sire, and there are still medicines that need to be administered…"

Beast's ears flipped back, and heat climbed up his neck and into his cheeks. His eyes flicked to Belle, and his stomach dropped in humiliation as he saw her attempting to look distracted by the ceiling. His hands reached for his cloak, wanting to disappear in the wave of purple, but he only found empty air and clenched his fists instead. "Leave. Now," Beast growled. And Dr. Reginald hurried out, forgetting his black bag on the table.

Once the man had shut the door behind him, Belle walked to the bed and sat with a heavy sigh. Beast followed, glad to be able to sit without looking weak.

"I don't understand why he hates me so much," Belle said.

Beast gently pressed the side of his hand to hers on the bed. "He's just that way," he reassured her, "He's been the castle's doctor for a long time. He doesn't like anybody." Beast wrinkled his nose. "No one likes him either."

Belle laughed. "Where has he been all this time?"

Beast looked at the floor, taking a moment to respond. "Well, he was in a box."

"A box?"

"Mm-hm."

"What kind of box?"

"A small, musical one."

Belle looked horrified, "You put him in a music box?"

Beast put his hands in front of him, as if deflecting her accusation. "I didn't do it!"

"Who did?"

"A few of the servants. Everyone was so fed up with his complaining that they locked him in a music box."

"For all those years?"

"They let him out occasionally, but he made everyone so miserable…"

"That he was never out for long?"

Beast nodded, "Yes."

Belle thought this over, and finally asked, "What was he?"

"A thermometer."

Belle snorted at this, and looked over to see if Beast was smiling. Her mirth died when she saw his face.

"But now…" he continued, looking away. "Now he's human again." His hands drew together to rest between his knees, and his shoulders slumped with fatigue. Belle bit her lip and placed her hand lightly on his forearm, silently trying to comfort him, unable to think of a reply. _He needs something_, she thought, _he needs me to DO something._ His face was turned away, his lips inaccessible. She got up on her knees on the bed, and when he looked up to see what she was doing she leaned forward and held him tightly across his chest, reaching as far around him as her arms could go, head tucked beneath his chin. Beast seemed shocked, frozen in disbelief.

"The last time I really held you," she started, her voice sounding shaky, "I thought you were going to die. I thought you were dead, I just…" She took a breath. "I'm just so happy you're alive, nothing else matters, nothing else…"

She was crying, Beast knew. He could smell the salt that he had only ever smelled in tears. He could feel her breath rustling the fur on his neck and the warmth of her cheek just above his heart. Surely, it would be alright if he put his arms around her now, gently, to let her know he knew she was upset. But she was already only just balancing on her knees to hold him, and if he wanted her any closer, she'd have to be moved. It was almost natural to put his arm just above her knees, to wrap his other arm around her slender waist. How easily his great muscles lifted her and brought her closer to him. How smooth his movements were…even while his heart trembled with the fear that the slightest wrong could revoke this entire miracle. That this blessing was as fragile as the rose that had ruled his life for so long.

He held her stiffly to him while she sniffled herself into composure. His back was aching from his straight posture, and his hands felt perilous. Any movement was risky.

Belle wiped her eyes and looked up to his face. Light was fading in the room, and the last rays of the sun made the loose hairs around her head glow as if she bore a halo. Beast was reminded strongly of the angels that graced the stained glass windows of churches: full of both fury and mercy, innocence and wisdom, all at once, housed in the bodies of women. There was a moment of silence when their eyes met, and her lips parted.

"I love you, Beast," she whispered.

Beast trembled, but closed his eyes and gathered his courage. His hand gently cupped her face, and he brought his face imperceptibly closer to hers.

"I love you, Belle."

He ached to kiss her, her lips soft and inviting and pink. He longed to brush his thumb over her full bottom lip, and taste it. But for all of his wanting, he remained still, a stone grotesque that clung to the haunted foundations he had been born into. His eyes darkened, and he looked away.

But soon he felt the light touch of her hand on his, and looked to see her eyes encouraging him. "It's all right," she said softly, then closed her eyes, and tilted her face to him, offering. His heart thundered in his ears, his vision sharp and precise in his nervousness. It took all his will to simply push through his irrational fears.

The moment his lips touched hers he felt a rush of energy surging through him, a feeling of daring that frightened him. She tasted like honey, and tea, and spice. Her lips were like rose petals against his own. When they parted, there was a soft smacking sound that sounded like thunder-clap to him in the quiet room. It had been a simple kiss, almost chaste, and Beast knew that he was breathing much too hard because of it. He felt the pressure building, a small twinge of discomfort. He needed to put her down, now.

When Belle opened her eyes, she was immediately concerned. It seemed that the black of Beast's pupils had nearly consumed the blue of his eyes, and the fixated look that he gave her was eerie. But he blinked, and all was well when they reopened. He shifted her in his arms and cleared his throat.

"Ah, Belle, I think I'd like to lie down. Uh, excuse me." He set her down on the floor beside him, and hurriedly lifted the sheets and situated himself beneath them, lying on his side and facing her. He fussed with the folds of the sheets while he spoke, watching his hands all the while. "Thank you, for, uh…" He squeezed his eyes shut and restarted. "It's been a long day. I need to sleep now." He turned abruptly over. "Good night."

Belle blinked. "Well, would you like me to read you something?"

"No, thank you. I'm really…tired, you should go to your room and I'll, uh, see you in the morning."

Belle bit her lip. "I've been sleeping in here, since you've been ill."

Beast's ears rose, and he turned just slightly, so that he could see her from the corner of his eye. "Really?"

"Yes, in the chair, just in case something happened. If something went wrong or you woke up."

Beast was silent, his mind unable to accept the simplicity of what she was saying.

"You don't have to do that anymore," he finally replied, his heart heavy as he said it.

"I never had to--" Belle stopped herself. "Well, good night."

"Good night."

When Beast heard the door shut he waited a few minutes, listening to her footsteps fade as she walked down the hall. Once he felt it was safe, he climbed silently from the bed and locked the doors. His tail flicked behind him as he went back to the cool sheets and soft mattress. Before getting in, he removed his pants, sighing deeply as the pressure was relieved somewhat. As he shifted his weight beneath the insulated comforter, he paused and lightly ran his fingertips over his own mouth, wondering what she had felt when he had kissed her. He recalled it, trying to remember if he had touched her with his protruding teeth. But the memory revealed nothing, simply sent another wave of sweetness coursing through him. He grunted quietly into his pillow, his fingers still resting on his closed mouth.

Thank You TrudiRose, for all your help.

Sorry I've been so slow on the updates folks, you know how it is. :) I will continue! Till the story is done!


	5. Chapter 5

Doctor Reginald appeared to be gazing out on a slowly setting sun, liquid reds and oranges lit the pristine snow of the castle's front lawn

The last rays of a blood red sun spilled out over a breathtaking crystalline landscape. The castle's usually perfectly maintained courtyard had been claimed by a thick layer of winter snow. The familiar shapes of plant life had been rendered strange and new under the icy coating and gleamed with the radiant hues of a setting sun.

If anyone within the castle had cared to step into Reginald's room, they might have mistakenly thought that he was staring out onto the glorious sunset. But, as the good doctor reached up with a wash rag and began to scrub the pane, perhaps they would have understood that he was not a man to appreciate such things.

Doctor Reginald had not been denied his mothers love. His life before the curse had been an average one. Comfortably growing up in the cozy home of his parents, he had never suffered abuse, nor had his life encountered any great tragedy. The younger Reginald had not been one to play the common games of boyhood or show any great interest in the females of his town. Reclusive and antisocial, Reginald studied and read, excelled in his classes and eventually chose to become a physician.

His parents, upper class citizens, were glad to have raised a son without any of the trouble that their acquaintances had had doing the same. They were proud of their mutual achievement, and very much loved their son. Even so, they never did speak of the dark fist of bitterness that seemed clenched over their son's heart. There were no musings between the couple of what it's origin might be.

As Reginald grew, it became increasingly apparent that he would never marry. As he continued his education, he became more and more renowned for both his medical genius, and his foul, stony disposition.

One day, nearing the end of his youthful years, he heard his colleges discussing the royal family and chose to stay and listen as he ate his lunch.

"I hear he's the worst we've had in a long while."

"Oh yes, he's completely unworkable, every doctor they've sent has come back swearing never to return."

"I'd bet all he needs is a good beating."

"Pah! Try to get that one past the Queen. God bless her soul, she's coddling that boy into a monster!"

Reginald wipes his mouth and speaks. "Is the position of Royal Physician open to all that would try?"

"Yes" One man answers, "With the proper training and experience of course"

Reginald stands up to collect his foodstuffs, already considering whether he could carry his things to the castle himself, or whether he would need help.

"Of course" He echoes.

---

Once Reginald had made his way to the castle and made himself known to the door person, he was quickly escorted up stairs and down a hallway. As they reached a large, beautifully carved door, the angry hollering of a young boy could be heard within.

The simpering house maid that had shown Reginald to the door looked up at him with big apologetic eyes.

"From what I hear he has a rather painful earache. But he won't take any of the medicine offered to him, says it tastes bad."

"Has anyone tried mixing the tinctures with honey?"

The maid gave him a pitying smile. "Every single one, we even gave it to him plain. He still says he can taste the bitter of medicine."

The doctor paused for a moment, then braced himself, straightening his back. "I am prepared to enter."

The maid obliged, stepping to the side as the decibel of the hollering doubled. She winced. "Best of luck to you."

Reginald gave her a stiff nod and walked into the room.

He very nearly recoiled upon the sight of the child's face, puffy, red eyes, swollen from tears glared up at him accusingly as the boy sat on the floor. Surrounded by the fluffy innards of pillows and stuffed toys, the young prince's nose ran unchecked, tawny locks tousled, he looked more like a savage than royalty.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, stubborn wills met in each others gaze.

The doctor cleared his throat. "I have been informed that your Majesty has an earache, perhaps I could be of assistance?"

"No." Answered the child prince sullenly, crossing his arms over a small chest. Despite his posturing, it was easy to tell that the little prince was exhausted, wearied from the pain of his earache and his crazed refusal for help.

"Well," answered Reginald, unfazed, "If I am so unsuitable, is there someone that you prefer to administer your medicines?"

The prince narrowed his eyes at the doctor, suspicious, and a bit surprised. No one had thought to offer him this before. His mind flitted to his mother's sweet smelling hands, and her gently ageing face, her soothing presence that had been so absent of late. For a moment the stabbing pain eased ever so slightly. But then he remembered that she was far away in some other country, arranging details for his elder brother's marriage.

"No." The boy said with a scowl, grabbing a handful of fluff and tearing it further apart.

"Is your Majesty very sure?" Reginald said softly, "Surely, as ill as your Majesty has become, I could contact whomever you would wish with an urgent letter explaining how terribly they are needed."

The prince looked up, becoming intrigued. "Really?"

Reginald gave the lonesome child a rare smile, "I would very much doubt that anyone could ignore a doctors opinion on such matters, and I am very persuasive in my letters. If only I could examine your Majesty's ear to be sure of your illness…"

Jumping quickly up, the prince sat firmly in the chair nearest to the doctor. "If you're lying I'll have you put in the dungeon." He threatened while the doctor gathered his things from his bag.

"I'll be sure not to disappoint your Majesty." Reginald replied coolly.

He gently maneuvered the princes head to peer into the boy's ear. A simple glance was all that was needed to confirm Dr. Reginald's suspicions, "Your inner ear is very inflamed, rather painful indeed, your Majesty must have been very brave to suffer through this far."

The prince felt a bit proud, for it had been very painful, and he had been tempted to take the medicines offered to him, but he had prevailed.

"The letter will take a few days to deliver, as you know, the post is rather slow. Perhaps I could give you something to lessen your suffering while we wait for it to go through?"

The prince thought for a moment, it had been so long since he saw his mother, but the pain was so strong. "If she hears that I took medicine from you, will she still come?" The child asked softly.

"Whom?" Reginald queried, although he mostly knew.

"My mother."

"She need never know. For all of her knowledge, you will only take medicine from her own hands."

The prince bit his lower lip.

"Alright."

-

The doctor followed through on his promise, and a fragile bond was formed between the two of them. While Reginald was aloof and uncompromising, he continued to use the prince's "inclination towards illness" to shepherd the Queen to her son's bedside. All through the prince's childhood he would fake and exaggerate sickness. Reginald would quickly distress the Queen with tales of near-death, unless her Highness would serve her child the medicines he refused from all others. All the while Reginald was revered and respected in a fashion that fulfilled his vast vanity, and he aged with satisfaction of a job well secured.

The Queen was unfailingly flattered by her son's insistence of her presence. While the prince was quite a horror during his tantrums, he was an unbearably beautiful child. She found great joy in the loyalty of this sullen, clingy creature she had birthed. But the Queen was fickle and easily disinterested, her nature did not allow her to stay in any one place too long, and as the years passed, her age restricted her to her eldest son's castle, near the sea. Letters of her younger son's ailing health could no longer budge her, so she sent great riches in her place to ease her guilt.

The prince slowly became adjusted to her absence, used to the empty splendors of his royalty. His heart slowly hardened as he grew from a lonely child, to a bitter adolescent.

--

Up a few stairs, and down a few hallways, Belle lay in her bed, looking up at the canopy that hung over her while her mind wandered.

_Oh, what would Papa say? I shouldn't have been the one to suggest marriage. _She rolled to her side. _I started the kiss as well. _She closed her eyes tightly in embarrassment. _The kiss…_

Belle adjusted her chemise, twisted uncomfortably around her from her tossing and turning. Heavy satin slid across her skin, and a warm blush spread over her face and chest.

_I'm not going to be able to sleep like this._

Belle sat up, putting her feet over the edge of the mattress. If she pointed her toes she could just touch the plush, cream colored carpet. In a flash she imagined cool, silken fur rubbing against her skin, a warm breath running down her neck, and a rumbling voice as deep as thunder…

But just as soon the thought hit, she pushed it away. Too appalled with herself to even reason with the warmth that spread and lingered inside of her, she pushed herself to a stand. Robe donned and slippers covering her feet, she braved the barren cold of the hallway in search of a book to preoccupy her. Candle held before her, she wondered if perhaps the candelabrums in the library were still there, or if no one had replaced them with objects after the people had gone.

--

Reginald had cleaned his room; his entire room, he had cleaned under his bed, wiped his books and organized his clothing. It was not an overly large room, by palace standards, but large enough that in his human days, before the spell, it had tired him sufficiently that he could sleep. But this evening, as the sky darkened rapidly, the aging man looked to his empty bed and felt a restlessness he had not felt since his adolescence.

"Perhaps a snack would do me well." He mused to himself.

Upon his arrival to the kitchen he found a pot of tea warming on the stove. Feeling a slight lift in his spirits, he took the pot, and finding biscuits nearby that were to his liking, gathered them in his arm as well. Making his way towards the banquet table in the dining hall, he was startled to see Cogsworth sitting there, staring out the window.

After many years of knowing Cogsworth, Reginald had come to admire the man for his work ethic and propriety. But on this night, alone beneath the light of innumerable stars, Reginald was struck by how well-kept and clean-cut Cogsworth appeared, and for the first time, he realized, that he had never been aware that Cogsworth had anyone to maintain such good habits for.

With the teetering uncertainty of a child's first steps, Reginald made his way to the chair across from Cogsworth. Opening the tin of biscuits, the older man extended it to Cogsworth as the rotund gentleman turned towards the doctor.

"Should you so happen to desire one, I believe there are more than enough biscuits for us both to enjoy." Said Reginald in an airy tone.

Looking shocked, Cogsworth obliged with an small "Thank You", and both looked towards the table.

"How is the Master?" Cogsworth inquired, attempting to break the silence.

"He is well," Replied Reginald, "But truthfully, he has always been a very robust boy. And he is damn near invulnerable as a Beast." Reginald took a breath. "Truthfully, he would be just as well if I had never treated his wound at all, and…" Reginald looked to his hands, gathering the words. "I fear I may have outlived my usefulness."

A silence followed, and then, a pudgy hand rested on his on the table.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. I believe that a trip to the market is on my list of things to do, and I would be thrilled for you to join me." Cogsworth offered gently.

Two men smiled at one another against a backdrop of stars in the grand windows. Then Cogsworth excused himself, leaving Reginald to ponder a sky that seemed strangely new and fascinating.

--

In the library, Belle settled into comfortable sofa near a crackling fireplace. It had taken some work, but she had managed to get a flame going. There had been just enough wood. Proud of her accomplishment, Belle chose a book from her selections and began to read. Enjoying the effects that the flickering light made on the page. But all too soon her eyes were heavy, and she felt herself giving way to sleep. Resolving to wake up early and go back to her room, she stretched herself along the length of the sofa. The book rested on her chest, rising and falling smoothly with her breathing. On the wall behind her resting form, a large window showcased the same sky that enchanted Reginald. It seemed that they're thoughts were also joined in this way. That despite their unknowing participation, they had both fallen into circumstances they had never considered before, and found them sweeter than they could have dreamed.


	6. Chapter 6

Through ornately embroidered lace curtains, rays of undiluted morning sunlight shot and fell across the room in small pools of heat and clarity. Although it may have seemed to the untrained eye that the patterns that they fell into were random, Beast knew with unquestioning certainty that the shining daggers of malicious light were meant especially for his eyes. That, along with the oppressively stale heat from the fireplace, grated on him. He shifted heavily through an assortment of decreasingly comfortable positions, but there was no respite. The brightness and warmth of the room kept him from drifting back to sleep.

With some effort he lifted his eyelids, weighted with the luxury of long hours of deep, unperturbed sleep. His doctor's advice to restrict movement completely unheeded, he lifted himself up on the bed to all fours for some rousing stretches. He extended one hind leg back as far as he could, extending even his toes for the satisfying pull of muscles as he unconsciously flicked his tail a bit from side to side. Sunshine washed over his form, highlighting the musculature that was so often hidden by his thick pelt. Beast rolled his massive shoulders as he held position, and then switched legs. Feeling slightly more awake, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. As he let his mind drift for a moment, it occurred to him to open a window and let out the heat in the room. He stood up to do just that, locating a pair of glass doors that led out to a small balcony. The view offered a snowy revision of the castle garden, twinkling in the sun.

Upon stepping out onto the balcony, he was met with a very cold breeze over his nether parts, and upon looking down discovered that he was exposed to the pretty winter scene. Immediately shocked and embarrassed, his ears went straight up and he pulled a nearby curtain to cover him whilst he scanned for anyone who could have seen. Relieved to see that there was no one around, Beast realized that he had awoken early, very much earlier than usual. It only took him a moment to remember why he had gone to bed so soon in the evening, and in such an undressed state. Fresh embarrassment flooded him. Belle, whose clever intelligence often trumped his own in a way that he had come to accept, had to have known why he had sent her from the room. Would she avoid him now?

Beast had never troubled himself to think that Belle could accept his furry exterior sexually. Previously, he had known that his form, while acceptable to her now, and perhaps even loved, was far beyond being considered for such activities. But now his mind was muddled. Weddings, for all their pomp and glory in the royal realm, boiled down to a wedding-night. The consummation of marriage. In a dream-like way, he realized what Belle might have been offering with her suggestion of marriage. Even if she hadn't meant to, she must have known what would be assumed.

His Majesty still stood in the doorway of the balcony, breathing the cold air, and considered that perhaps the curse may have left him some small part of his manhood. That despite everything that had been taken away, he might still be able to lay with a wife. All the more, one that he loved, a beautiful bride, one that loved him back. He mulled over that. Weighed in his mind, he knew many men in his own lineage who had settled for less. He had an uncle who had claimed an entire small kingdom in battle, only to receive a very shrill and horse-looking woman for a wife. But Belle… Beast thought of her and shut his eyes, still clutching the curtain in his intensity. Had anyone who had been walking in the garden looked up to see him, they might have laughed at the image of a horned demi-god who appeared to be dressed in a very frilly toga.

Although Beast was loathe to admit it, marriage would have most likely never come up if Belle had not offered it. His brow furrowed over closed eyes. His devotion and adoration of her, even within himself, was undeniable. Had Beast been in his human form, he would have claimed her long ago, with marriage, among other things. Being the youngest of three sons, he could have easily convinced his parents to allow him to buy Belle into royalty so that they could marry. His other two brothers had married well, to princesses that provided more riches to their parents than love between the couple. But in his cursed form, he had never thought she might look to become joined to him, had thought that the mere suggestion would offend her.

But the events of the previous evening had given him much to consider. '_-the man I love, the man I'm going to marry…'_ She had shed tears for him, tears of joy that he was still alive, even while he mourned it. _I love you,_ _Beast_. Wasn't it a bit strange that she was always the first to say it? And then the kiss… _It's all right. _Inwardly,Beast cringed, suddenly noticing a pattern. Too often, Bellecomforted him when he was too cowardly to move forward. His instincts in such matters pointed out that the opposite should be true. He suspected himself of leaving her to do the hard work of taking risks, while he shirked the duties of any dignified male in the process of wooing his love.

Beast opened his eyes and straightened his posture, looking out onto the landscape with a determined expression. The circumstances that had preceded the transformation would have greatly shamed his family, had they ever known. For nothing was much more incriminating than the punishments of sorcerers. But pursuing Belle's favor as he would have done had the curse never happened appealed to Beast's sense of dignity. He took a deep breathe of crisp air, puffing out his chest, and released it. A billowing cloud of breath heavy with resolve dissipated in the brisk morning.

Beast decided that he would leave the work to Belle no longer. If against all odds, she had truly overcome his monstrous appearance, and was willing to accept him as a man, as a husband…then he would hasten to act like a man and lead, as best he could.

With that, the hulking being stepped back into the room to dress himself, leaving the doors open but the drapes closed. Hazy plans formed in his mind of inviting Belle to walk with him in the icy gardens. He wished he could tell her what he'd realized, and apologize for being so weak, but he knew that the words would come out wrong. He would simply show her. Bedecked in his usual garb, plus his favorite cape for the cold, he set out to do so.

Traveling the hallways, he dropped to all fours and ran in his excitement. Arriving at her room, Beast quickly stood up and hesitated, gently touching her door, but not knocking. It was very early after all, would it be rude to knock? It would certainly be ruder to just open the door, he supposed. Finally, he opened the door just a bit, and gently rumbled her name through the space.

"Belle?"

When he heard no response, he tried again a little louder, and with the same results, peeked through the gap. Seeing her empty, disheveled bed, sheets thrown back and a pillow on the floor. Beast felt the most mild prick of irritation build. Why wasn't she here? Where else would she be? His brows lowered and pushed together as he opened the door, stepping into her room. Her scent flooded his nose and the irritation dropped away like a stone. Blue eyes skittered over the room, absorbing. Belle, it seemed, wasn't exactly tidy. Beast felt a blushing heat go down his neck when he saw a lone pair of petticoats hanging over a nearby chair. Reminded of his lack of invitation, Beast left her room, closing the doors behind him.

Figuring the library to be the next best place to look, the hirsute prince began to walk towards it. In passing through a hall of arms, he spotted Mrs. Potts at the end of it.

"Mrs. Potts!" he hollered, too impatient to wait till he was close enough to speak.

Mrs. Potts, in her gently refined way, did not respond till she was at a distance that her proper speaking voice could be heard. "Yes, your Majesty?" she chirped. Beast noticed as she grew closer to him, that she seemed…brighter, in some way. Her cheeks were rosier, her smile was wider even her eyes seemed clearer. While he was impressed by the change, the current issue of locating Belle pushed to the forefront.

"Do you know where Belle is?" Beast queried.

"Have you checked the library?" Mrs. Potts responded easily. "Belle went there often when she wasn't watching over you." She peered at him under raised eyebrows, accentuating the point.

"I was on my way." Beast confirmed. He looked to the ground, again confronted with Belle's show of love and loyalty.

"Well, I'm sure she'd love your company. But perhaps you could tend to your appearance before you do," Mrs. Potts gestured faintly to her chin, as if stroking a beard, then gave an equally subtle point to a highly reflective suit of armor. A quick inspection revealed a mess of snarls that had developed while he slept.

"Hrrm," he grunted in agreement.

Smoothing his hands back over the top of his head and gently running his claws through the fur there, Beast quickly combed in hopes of making himself presentable. With a couple of tugs through his beard, he thought he must have gotten at least the visible knots, and felt ready, bounding towards the library. Pulling open the large, arched wooden doors, he entered, and immediately spotted two pale ankles leading to dainty slipper-covered feet, visible from behind a green couch across the room. Absolutely astonished, Beast came closer, looking over the back of the couch to discover his beloved sleeping in the tender embrace of the library sofa. Resting on her chest was the inevitable book.

Beast stood frozen for a number of reasons. First and foremost was her manner of dress. Belle had always dressed very modestly, wearing long sleeves even when the weather permitted sleeveless dresses. Thus the effect of seeing her in a nightgown - a satin nightgown no less - had double the influence on him. Long expanses of porcelain skin were exposed to him: her long arms, her elegant neck. The creamy, off-white fabric brought gleaming accents to her womanly curves, and enhanced the pale of her skin. Dainty straps left her collarbones exposed. Beast was reminded strongly of his first tantalizing look at those collarbones, that night in the Ballroom.

Belle's head was turned just slightly away from him, cheeks pink, lips pinker and slightly parted. She breathed, and Beast struggled to do the same. His eyes slid over her. Many thoughts flew through his head at once: the memory of yellow silk…the first time he had ever felt her body heat… the way she had felt as he held her against him, just last night…Beast yearned to feel those things again. _Touch her_, his body seemed to scream.

Standing hunched, Beast fought the temptation, worrying his paw-like hands, twisting them together. But still, he looked, his eyes drawn to her sleeping form. Finally, he was helpless to resist. Shaky fingertips tucked a lock of chestnut hair away from Belle's face, and then gently smoothed over a brow. His other hand joined in mindlessly, mimicking the movements of his first. Reaching easily over the back of the sofa, Beast traced feather-light trails over Belle's cheeks, her jaw line, her forehead, reveling in the softness of her skin, the sweetness in the structures of her face.

His heart was beating hard, even though his touches were innocent. He knew that were anyone to walk in, it would look badly on him. Even if he had been assured of privacy, Beast still would have questioned his own motives, always afraid that his monstrous appearance would taint his appetites as well. Perhaps if he had known that his behavior almost exactly mirrored Belle's own explorations of him not so long ago, he would have felt more secure.

While Belle's skin was soft to his touch, it was also chilled, and Beast looked to see the few smoldering embers that remained in the fireplace. Impulsively, he decided that he would carry Belle to her room, return her to her bed, and start a new fire in the hearth in her room. It warmed his heart to care for her as she had done for him, and he was eager to do it.

But as he went to scoop her into his arms he halted. The book, tattered and surely very old, was probably just as eager to fall to the floor and wake Belle, foiling his efforts. But to remove it seemed implausible, as its placement on her bosom currently retained her modesty. Beast hesitated, and then whipped off his cloak, letting it drape over Belle's sleeping form. Then, carefully, he began to work his hands beneath her back, effectively tucking the cloak around her while he did so. Once he had his forearms beneath her, he shifted his hand, his thick fingers sliding through the silky hairs at the nape of her neck to support her head, and lifted. She wasn't feather light, but she wasn't nearly heavy either; her body was a pleasant weight in his arms as he cradled her against his broad shoulder, the book trapped between their chests. Beast was surprised to discover that he was not nearly as nervous holding her now as he had been the night before. As it was, he was quietly amused to find that if he turned his ear just right, he could hear the sound of Belle snoring, just ever so lightly.

Adjusting his grip to be sure he would not drop her, the prince hoped that the hallways to Belle's room would be empty. Walking to the door, he balanced on one leg as he used his other foot to open the library door wider. Although his cloak protected her from potential embarrassment, eyebrows would be raised if he was seen escorting her to her room while she wasn't properly dressed. After scanning the surrounding area, he stepped out of the library, trying to walk quickly without jostling his precious cargo.

Not too far away, two plainly-dressed men navigated a small town's market. They did not walk too closely to one another. Yet in an understated way, it was clear that they walked together. Reginald kept an eye out for anything he might need, but surprisingly, most of his things had not been much affected by his time away from them. He had always been a firm believer in the use of cedar to ward away moths, and he found he still fit all of his clothing.

Cogsworth studied the distracted doctor's ever-so-slight jowls in the morning sun. He remembered Reginald's younger days in the castle. The physician's face had always seemed too somber and aloof. But now, with the fine lines of time and gray hairs, Reginald seemed dignified, regal. Cogsworth decided that age suited the doctor.

Lumiere would have a field day with this. Like a pig to truffles, the flirtatious maitre'd always seemed to detect romance with ease. Cogsworth was utterly thankful that both Lumiere and Babette had taken to sleeping late.

Beast managed to arrive at Belle's door without witness. To his utter annoyance, he realized that the doors were shut. With no free hands, he considered the doorknob with a grimace. Beast huffed, shifting Belle so that her legs draped over his forearm, her head resting in the crook of his other arm, as he held her in place with his hand at her waist. Being moved thusly, the book that had been pinned between their chests fell and made acquaintance with Beast's foot, the sound of its preordained fall muffled.

Stifling a loud growl, the bruised Beast kicked the heavy book a small distance away. Having freed his other hand, he leaned forward and opened the door, careful not to make too much noise.

Thankful to see that the bed's sheets were turned back, Beast set her down gently on the mattress, bending low, close to her face. He ran claw-tipped fingers through her hair, closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Soap, tea, and the smallest hint of sweat, her sweat, came to him. He sighed and opened his eyes to gaze at her, supporting his weight with his hands on the mattress. His brunette beloved slept steadily. Beast began to slowly pull away his cape, but then hesitated as he recalled her lack of proper covering beneath it. It would have been a lie to say that he was not tempted. Beast hungered to see Belle, every part of her. But to take the choice away from her seemed to betray all the goodness she had shown to him.

He pulled the sheets to cover Belle, mourning it, but doing so all the same. He stood up straight, looking at her still, watching her face, then turned to start her fire. Halfway to the hearth, he remembered Belle's book was likely still lying outside the door and went to grab it, placing it on the nightstand near her bed. Grabbing the small shovel in the stand just outside of the fireplace, Beast began to remove the cold ashes that remained of the last fire that had burned there. In his focus, he forgot to heed the noise, and the grating of metal against stone sounded through the room. But Belle seemed set upon sleeping, making a soft noise herself and turning over within the softness of her bed. Beast checked over his shoulder, then continued his work.

The fire blazed, and he could feel the difference in the room because of it. Highly satisfied, Beast felt one more adjustment was needed before he was done. Opening a window on the far side of the room would keep the air fresh and the room from becoming too hot, and seeing as it was something he preferred himself, Beast assumed that Belle would also appreciate the gesture.

But upon trying to open the window, Beast found that it was quite stuck. Confident in his ability to muscle past the problem, he tried harder, digging his claws into the wood, bunching his biceps, and tensing his abdomen as he strained to pull the window upward. For a few moments, the window held; then suddenly it shot open, with a loud, piercing squeal that made Beast's ears lay back against his head. Beast froze for the second time that day, hoping against hope that the sound hadn't broken Belle's slumber.

A faint, groggy voice spoke behind him. "Beast?"

Just moments ago, Beast had felt proud of his thoughtfulness, but now he felt mysteriously embarrassed. His hands still on the window, he turned slightly to look out of the corner of his eye to her.

"Yes?"

The sheets rustled as Belle sat up in her bed, holding his cape over her chest. Seeing him look so miserable and confused made her want to comfort him, despite her own confusion. Without thinking, the words "Would you like to sit down?" tumbled from her lips.

Beast turned fully towards her, looking surprised but quickly regaining his composure. Belle's face seemed tinged with red, a little embarrassed herself. He walked to her bed, ambling up onto it. He was silent, panicked by how unprepared he was to take the initiative that he had felt so intent on just an hour earlier.

Belle felt the mattress respond to Beast's weight, and she was reminded of his size. The tilt of the bed encouraged her to lean against him, as did morning laziness. But this state of undress would have made it entirely inappropriate. "Good morning," she said softly, looking at his face, then down to her lap, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I found you in the library," Beast explained, "you fel- uh, looked cold, so I brought you to your room and…" He gestured to the fire.

Belle smiled. "Thank you." She was flustered. He had seen her in her nightgown? How scandalizing! The brunette beauty remembered in a flash that she had fallen asleep in the library, and wished with all her might that she had not. "Uh, did anyone else-?"

"No," Beast stated. "Just me." In the ensuing silence, Belle considered this. Her husband-to-be had protected her honor, built her a fire, and managed to keep the potentially humiliating moment quiet. Her limited romance novel experience told her that a show of affection would be appropriate, but Belle couldn't find the bravery to initiate it.

All of this thought took the form of an awkward silence, which made Beast uneasy. He thought to change the subject. "You fell asleep with a book, I brought it too."

Belle felt a charge of anxiety pierce her. She remembered all too well what she had been reading last night. There was no way to soften _Manuel on the Reversal of Lingering Curses, _was there? "Oh?" she said in a neutral tone, scanning his face for hurt or anger, hoping his illiteracy might have shielded him. She tried not to look around for the book, to show a lack of interest, but to no avail. Beast started to lean across her to fetch it from her nightstand, presumably to hand it to her. But Belle grabbed his reaching arm, stopping him short.

"That was very thoughtful of you," she said softly, hand still resting lightly on his arm. She looked to the rug near the door, her long eyelashes and elegant neck displayed by her nervous body language. She did hope to distract him from the book, but meant her words. Beast was still, his eyes trained on her face. He breathed slowly. She looked up and their eyes met.

This time there was no hesitation, no offering that was timidly received. Their movement was synced, both wanting, both looking to please. Their lips met at an angle. Their difference in height and positions made it difficult only for a moment though, as Beast wasted no time gathering her into his arms and resting her bottom softly on the thick muscular thigh of his crossed leg. Belle gasped, breaking their kiss. The sensation of being lifted by those big hands, the blatant show of effortless strength, tempered with his gentle movements, brought the heat of her passion to her face. This was utterly different from the shows that Gaston had often put on, she thought. There was no move to dominate or claim, no crowd to entertain. Only her sweet Beast's earnest attempts for her approval and affection.

Belle decided that she had struggled with her feelings toward Beast long enough. It no longer mattered what others might think. If she were honest with herself, the fear that his appearance had once evoked in her had subtly changed into a thrilling wonder. In ways that were unknown to her, his strange differences drew her like nothing she had known before.

Beast was disoriented by her sharp intake of breath. Thinking that he may have hurt her, he backed away a bit to look at her. Belle seemed fine, but Beast sensed something had changed. His heightened senses detected the sudden presence of a strangely sweet musk in the room, which confused him as well. Despite his arousal and feverish wish to continue kissing Belle, he found the smell called attention to itself, pulling in his focus. He breathed in deeply through his nose for more of the exotic scent, puzzled until he looked back to Belle, took note of her rosy cheeks and heightened breathing. They held each others eyes, Beast's arms crossed behind her back. One of Belle's hands clutched the front of his linen shirt, the other still held his thick purple cape to cover her chest. Still looking deeply into Beast's eyes, Belle felt the spirits of wild daring pass through her, and her hand opened to let the cape fall away.

Now it was Beast's turn to gasp. It was all too apparent that Belle was wearing no chemise beneath her nightgown. The neckline was not very deep, but revealed the very top of her cleavage, stopping just before the swell of her womanly flesh. He throbbed at the sight of Belle's protruding nipples beneath the satin, her visible arousal bolstering him to action. He leaned forward, careful of his horns, and lay one tender kiss over her uncovered sternum. He could feel the shape and warmth of her breasts through the fabric of her gown, pressing into the ruff of fur surrounding his head. He turned his head, kissing the exposed parts of her breasts, encouraged when Belle let her head fall back, giving him her neck to explore.

He was dying to feel her breasts in his hands, but knew that simply allowing himself this impulse could bring the moment to an abrupt stop. Her scent filled his mind, making it hard for him to think, and it seemed to be gathering strength. Had any human male taken in the air, the fragrance would have been too subtle to notice. But to Beast's keen nose, the aroma of Belle's arousal was distinct and addictive, driving him to find more, opening doors to instinctive reactions that Beast had tried so hard not to act on.

Beast's tongue sent goose bumps crawling over Belle's flesh as it laid a hot, wet trail up her neck. Her breath caught at the feel of his tongue, rough like a cat's, and she reached up with her free hand for something to hold onto as she arched toward him. Her hand slid over fur as silken as the gown she wore, she stroked his velvety ear and then grabbed his twisted horn, pulling him closer as she tried to pull herself up. A soft growl of pleasure escaped from Beast's chest, and he moved to lay her back on the bed. Her legs went to either side of Beast's thigh as he leaned forward on his knees, supporting his weight on one arm as he lowered her beneath him with his other. Belle could almost feel the power and focus emanating from Beast as he hovered over her, keeping his weight off of her as he continued to lick and kiss his way over her shoulders, throat and back over her chest. Their breathing was loud in the quiet room. Tingling sensations distributed themselves in waves throughout Belle's body. Warmth and pressure gathered deliciously between her legs.

"Beast," she said huskily, writhing for relief she wasn't sure she wanted. Broad arms wrapped around her upper torso as Beast tried to get his legs under him again, wanting to pull Belle closer for another proper kiss. It was in this movement that the apex of Belle's thighs straddled Beast's leg. As Belle's weight settled against him, she began to subtly undulate, soaking up the pleasure that resulted from it.

Beast had no frame of reference for the activities he and his beloved were participating in; the curse had been cast too early in his years for much different to be expected. The drive of a man too long repressed and the unconscious directives of his monstrous form led him like a blinded horse. But even he was not so blind and naïve to overlook the heat of Belle's sex soaking through the fabric of his pants. He held her close, their lips meeting again, hearts pounding together, equally inflamed by love and lust. Belle's hands began to search for buttons of his shirt, opening it so she could run her palms over more of his broad chest and that luxurious fur. His panting breaths became more ragged. Big, claw-tipped hands closed over hers, leading them to his furred shoulders and tightening, signaling that she hold on. Belle hesitated in fear of hurting him, but soon wound her fingers through his thick coat and held.

Straightening, Beast rose a bit from his kneeling position, and lifted Belle slightly. She brought her knees under her, and felt Beast move his own hips upwards, leading her to realize what he had done. With her weight resting on her knees, Belle had more freedom to move her hips and pleasure herself.

Belle was experiencing something beyond what she had ever thought she would achieve. Even the most heated of her reading selections had still been frustratingly vague in their descriptions of sensual encounters. Nagging guilt and a proper upbringing gnawed at her from a distant place in the back of her mind, but tides of pleasure coursing through her kept her going. The warmth of Beast's large powerful hands on her, squeezing gently on her hips radiated a feeling of blissful satisfaction into her stomach, stirring butterflies. She pulled herself closer to the solid build of his body, earning a breathy groan from her partner. Her long fingers slid away from their hold, and she lovingly stroked the fur surrounding his face. Her touches opened his eyes to see her face, and Belle was shocked once again by the way his pupils had dilated. Not wanting to seem put off, she stretched upward for a kiss, unintentionally sliding her body against his.

As Belle moved, Beast moved with her, grunting softly, eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to coordinate his movements with his love's. His erection was aching. While Belle's leg, caught between his thighs, brushed against him through his pants, the stimulation was too indirect to satisfy, yet just enough to keep him actively aroused. Beast was determined to follow through, to give his lady pleasure. However, he doubted he could last much longer in this position.

Beast shut his eyes tightly, his painful arousal becoming too much to bear. Not at all helped by Belle's breasts as they pressed into his chest, or the feeling of her lips as they kissed. His hands clenched, pulling the satin of Belle's nightgown taught between them, helpless to the pained growl that escaped him. Belle leaned back, studying his face.

"Are you alright?" she said softly, nervousness creeping into her voice "What's wrong?"

Beast shook his head, gesturing that nothing was wrong. Although he tried to hide it, his panting breath made speech difficult for him. His strong arms laid Belle back onto the mattress, although she gave a disappointed sound at the move. Then he lay down beside her, pulling her close again, but leaving a small space between their lower halves. They lay on their sides, facing each other. Belle was quick to press her face into Beast's ruff, running her hands over his chest. Beast felt unsure of his next move. Even with his own needs begging to be sated, Beast wanted to bring Belle to completion more than anything… although he was not at all versed on how to go about it.

His thick fingers wandered down her side, then slid gradually to her belly. The knuckles of his hand slowly came to a stop just below her navel, asking permission to go further silently. Belle's hand covered his, holding it there unnecessarily, her stomach twisting with indecision.

"Don't you think we should wait?" she whispered, then added "For the wedding?"

Beast was immensely relieved that he would not have to stimulate her that way, when he was unsure of what to do, but also disappointed that he hadn't brought her to a climax. But he knew that it was ultimately the lady's decision how far they should go.

Even with a deep breath, his voice was thick and deep with lust, but he spoke as clearly as he could. "We can wait as long as you want." He took the hand that held his, giving it a timid squeeze of affection. Then, in an inspired moment, he turned his head to whisper into her ear. "I love you, Belle."

The sweet words, combined with the warmth of his breath and the brush of his lips against her ear, made Belle flush again. She moved to lean on her elbow, looking into his face and bringing his hand to her chest, holding it close to her heart. "Oh Beast, I love you too." She leant forward to kiss him again, and with her change of position, Beast felt her breast rest against his hand. With that, the throbbing in his groin flared, and he had to set his jaw to stifle his reaction, resulting in a somewhat strangled noise.

This time Belle moved away to inspect him more thoroughly, her face showing concern. "What's going on?" she said softly, running her hand tenderly over his cheek. "You can tell me."

Beast hesitated, wondering if he really could just tell her what was ailing him. Her eyes seemed to show sincere worry, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud. In a sudden impulse, he pulled her flush against him, letting her feel the stark erection pressing into her thigh through her gown. Beast heard her breath hitch, but didn't sense her trying to pull away.

"It hurts," he rumbled, his cheek pressed lightly to her shoulder, not wanting to make eye contact.

"Oh" Belle responded, blushing furiously and a little intimidated by the length and girth of the hot thing that seemed to throb against her. She recalled words like 'aching' in the description of longing between lovers, but hadn't ever imagined it might be literal.

"Do you…" Belle paused and started again, voice timid and a little unsure. "Is there something I can do?"

Beast was silent for a beat, then "I don't want you to see it." he admitted finally, shame forming a heavy stone in his stomach.

The bookworm was no fool, and hadn't expected for the sorceress that had transformed him to spare any specific part of him, not when everything else had been so utterly changed. In the back of her mind, she had expected that he would be at least somewhat different from the common man even in the most intimate of places.

"Alright," she said with a gentle smile. "I don't have to see it."

She petted the line of dark fur that bisected his chest, giving him a light kiss. "But maybe I can help make it stop hurting?"

Astonished at her offer, Beast looked at Belle with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting to breathe. "Really?"

Belle looked away, embarrassed, "Well, I've never- I mean, I'm not sure what to do, but," she looked back to him, "I want to you feel what I felt."

His mind racing, Beast considered his options, either Belle hadn't completely understood, or she had, and was willing to continue anyway. Although he was desperate for her touch, wanted to be relieved, he couldn't ignore the risk of her repulsion.

"No" he whispered in his deep voice, "not now, but…thank you."

They continued to lay together, as the sun rose higher in the sky, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated by what had happened. Their hearts and minds were open for what lay ahead for them, and each hoping the other would be brave enough to move forward.


	7. Chapter 7

What can I say? I feel terrible for being gone so long. I'm sorry. ;_;

It took me a while to get back on the horse once I got my new computer.

Here, have some hurt/comfort and some slashy content. I drew a slashy/fluffy!picture too, but it's not totally done yet. The next chapter will actually justify the mature rating! :D

A Moment Echoes: Chapter 7

-^---

Years ago, before Belle had ever stepped foot in the castle, many passing moments had fashioned the conditions that she had come to live in. While the young prince languished in his newly cursed form, alternating between lethargic depression and irrational fury, the rest of the castle seemed to go on in stride. Performing their old duties in their new forms. Hope was high in the beginning, as the servants kept the castle in proper order, waiting for their imminent release. But time went on, and as each year passed, it took much of their resolve with it. Slowly the castle had become resigned, turning the bustle of cheerful upkeep into dreary habit.

The prince, once far too aloof to connect to those who served him, seemed humbled in some ways by his transformation. It had taken him time to relearn walking, especially when his new body was so insistent that he go on all fours. His moods weighed heavily on him at times, making him feel as though he was simply too weak to move for hours or days. Lumiere had been the first to come to the Beast, when he had not appeared for his meals. Many of the servants were kept at a distance by his anger, but as Lumiere reported the wretched state that the prince had come to, a few others began to help as well. Lumiere, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts all became the few meager sources of direction and hope for the bestial prince. With their continuing focus, they managed to partially cajole the once proud royalty out of his crushing despair. Despite his frequent relapses, the small group began to bond. And although the prince continued to treat his rescuers as mere servants, in times of tranquility or doubt, he would also acknowledge them as friends and advisers.

Prince Adam had never been an eager student, and efforts to continue his lessons after the transformation were quickly smothered by his stubborn refusal and explosive, violent anger. Reminders of how his future had been stolen from him tormented him. What good was the education of royalty if one would never be able to preform royal duties? What duties could be performed with the appearance of a monster? The servants of the castle had deemed him the Beast long before the curse, as a source of humor for those who served him. In the wake of the malicious spell, however, he took it as his title, and ordered the castle to refer to him as such. The small joke quickly died.

---

Wrinkled, twisted plains had replaced the usual subtle undulations of fine linens that covered Belle's bed. The two occupants were far too involved with one another to be bothered however. Their passionate petting had mellowed, allowing for a much more leisurely exchange of affection. They lay on their sides facing each other. Belle's free hand gently stroked the fur on Beast's face, gliding along the lines of his jaw and brow line. The different shades of his fur shone in the gentle morning light, shifting with the movement of Belle's fingertips as she brushed through to the skin beneath. Her other hand was lovingly cradled in his large palm. The soothingly rhythmic affection produced a gaze of glazed adoration from Beast. Belle met his stare with her own, a faint smile on full lips hinting at the sense of contentment she felt. Although her eyes were half-closed, still tired from her late night and early awakening, her heart was thrilled. There was some guilt, but not much, they were both still fully clothed after all. The weight of taboo was gone from her heart, at least for now.

"I'm glad you found me." she whispered, not out of a need for secrecy, but in keeping with the subdued atmosphere in the room. Although she had meant it simply, she couldn't help but blush when she realized how it could be construed. She turned her face into her pillow to hide her bashful smile. Her fingers slid from his cheek to beneath his chin, as if to hide from it's mild embarrassment behind his beard.

Beast had to smile as well, his hand on the bed tightened carefully around hers, while his other sought out her hand from his neck. "I'm glad too." He kissed the fingers that had been petting him. Belle peeked at him from her pillow, then turned her head back towards him. Her hand splayed when his lips drew away, caressing his cheek once more, hungry to touch him.

"You're so soft." Belle stated in a dreamy voice. The words had slipped out, meant as a sincere compliment, but his expression became decidedly unflattered. Belle's sleepy mind couldn't stop the giggle that followed. She rose up on her elbow to close the short distance between them with a kiss, hoping that it would make amends. Beast accepted her kiss without thought, allowing her to distract him from the small sting to his masculine pride.

But she continued, "I like it," she whispered, positioned above him now, her face close to his. She steadied herself with a hand on his chest, and subtly pressed, suggesting he lay back as she repositioned herself. Beast seemed captivated, struck, following her lead and laying his head back on the pillows beneath; his eyes fixated on her. Now kneeling on the bed, Belle moved closer. Belle nervously bit her lower lip, looking at him with uncertain expression, hesitating. Beast looked back at her, anticipating her next move. Pushing past her discomfort, she leaned forward, and pressed both hands onto his chest, fingers spread wide, greedy for the tactile sensation of her hands on cool fur and the shifting muscles beneath as she she slid them down his chest, over his ribcage. Pleasure spread through Beast wherever the pleasant pressure went, causing him to squirm somewhat, his hands clenching in the sheets. He fought the urge to touch her just yet, not wanting to interrupt the moment. The brunettes eyes lowered to follow her hands. Hot, gut-deep admiration for the power beneath her palms washed through her, transforming her expression into something wanton. Beast witnessed the change as the flush returned to her face, could smell the shift in her scent, but remained still until he felt her small hands drift over his lower abdomen. His body responded automatically, pressing his hips towards her touch as a low moan that reverberated through the room escaped him. Beast shut his eyes tightly, reigning in his rising passions, but almost immediately his eyes opened again, his gaze returning to her quickly to continue watching. His response excited her deeply. A sudden, eager confidence in her ability propelled her as she leaned forward to kiss his stomach. Pressing her cheek where she had laid her kiss, Belle looked to Beast as a heated, intense feeling circulated through her, urging her to make him moan again. His eyelids lowered, and he reached out for her, wanting more of her touch, wondering at the pleasure she seemed to receive from it as well. Belle held onto his forearms, allowing him to pull her forward till she was reclining across his torso on her stomach.

She moved to straddle his waist awkwardly. Her palms traveled away from each other, measuring the broadness of his shoulders, then sliding down his bicep. She paused there, squeezing the firm shape, looking for all the world as though she were pinning him to the bed. She remembered the night he had saved her from the wolves, these arms had defeated an entire pack of them for her. The memory of his bravery and strength aroused her further. Beast's breaths began to quicken, but he did not move, letting her do what she wanted, transfixed by her assertive behavior. He looked up at her face, taking in the desire in her features with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

Belle's fingers tugged at his hands, wordlessly leading them to her waist as she shifted restlessly on top of him.

"Touch me" she whispered.

"Hmnh," Beast responded breathly, gripping her hips as his abdominal muscles flexed under her. Her enthusiasm and boldness were almost too much. He struggled to let her take the lead. He could feel his erection returning, pleading for his release. He wanted to show his patience, his resolve. But it was hard not to push for more when she was so close, seemed so willing. His body responded to her words before his mind could.

Again his hips rose, lifting her, but he was quick to divert his need to move into his hands. Rubbing his palms up her back, thumbs tracing the curve of her sides, feeling the silken material and the shape of her body, Beast attempted to return the sensual massage she had started. Belle arched her back, turning her face to the ceiling and pressing into his hands. She felt him grip her tighter, fingers pressing firmly into her flesh, and looked down to see him watching her still, his pupils visibly dilating as they took took her in. She felt a sudden flare of excitement, and moved her hips into him. A rumbling groan was dragged from chest as his body moved to meet her without hesitation.

It was then that the sheer influence her body had over Beast occurred to Belle. The thought made her heart pound. How deep his love was for her, how badly he desired her. The primal wanting that she sensed from him pleasured her almost as much as his touch, and excited her two fold. She wanted to draw more from him. The idea that she could bring him to such a state thrilled her, making her feel needy for him. Her breasts ached to be touched, but just as her hand rested over his to gently hint him there, she shifted forward, and the glare of the sun caught her eyes, causing her to look away while her eyes watered. The time they had spent together in her room had been enough for the sun to shift, rising higher into the sky, and entering Belle's room through her uncovered window.

"Ow," Belle said, irritation coloring her tone as her hand covered her eyes and she sat back, waiting for the discomfort to fade.

Beast fumbled for what to say, his hands still holding tightly to her. His mind struggled to adjust to the sudden change in mood. "Do you want me to close the curtains?" he offered. He was hopeful they could continue unabated.  
Belle, feeling somewhat put off and self conscious now, glanced from beneath her hand to the clock in her room. "No, it's almost time for to come with Breakfast..." Just mentioning the older women made Belle feel embarrassed by her activities. She moved to get up from Beast's stomach, looking at the pillow beneath his head. "We need to get you-" Belle was cut off, -as her efforts to move from her perch was hindered by Beast's grip. He was silent for a moment, holding her where she was and simply looking at her with an expression that was hard to read. Belle met his eyes, smiling.

"Are you planning on letting me go?" she said teasingly, running her fingertips lightly over his hands.

Beast smirked softly himself, his eyes drifting to where their hands touched, still resting on the curve of her waist. 'Never again' his mind responded and he shook his head no. But he knew that wasn't what Belle had meant. He had his own questions. His expression went serious. He tilted to his side, letting her slide gently down beside him. Enveloped in his shadow, Belle looked up at him. Beast took her hands in his, looking down at them while he gathered his thoughts. When he looked to her eyes, he looked as if he was bracing himself, embarrassed, and still struggling to push his renewed arousal from his mind.

He spoke softly. "Belle, do you really... want me this way?"

Belle paused. She felt the blush coming to her cheeks, but knew her answer.

"Yes." She whispered, "Absolutely".

Beast took a deep breath at the exhilaration he felt. He had thought so, but to hear her say it! He couldn't stop the smile that crept to his face.

"Even though... you know that my, ah, that I'm different?" He looked intensely at her.

Belle thought she might be glowing red from the heat she felt in her face. "I know," she said simply, then cast her glance downward. "I... always figured that it might be the case.." She looked back to his face, hoping she hadn't shocked him too badly.

Beast did look slightly taken aback. The thought that Belle might have logically assumed the unique state of his genitalia did surprise him, but not nearly as much as the thought of her considering the subject in the first place. Thick brows began to furrow in thought. He knew that Belle was smart, but had vaguely assumed that perhaps her child-like sweetness and compassion would also lend itself to a child-like innocence. How long had she been thinking about this? What conclusion had she come to? In Beast's mind, he could easily see Belle imagining something short of the truth, and becoming horrified when she realized she had been wrong. The scene played out like a nightmare: the wedding canceled, Belle leaving the castle for the final time, unable to fathom marriage to a man who had been transformed to a monster whose every body part reflected some fierce creature. The imagined scenario was heart-wrenching to him, and quickly put a damper on his ardor and his mood.

Belle, seeing the change in his demeanor, bit her bottom lip, pulling their hands closer to her.

"Well, they're not for looking at anyway" she stated factually, but her smirk belied her humor. Beast couldn't help a small huff of laughter, his eyes drawn to her hands as her fingers played over one large knuckle on his own hand. Feeling encouraged, Belle continued.

"I hear that they're all pretty ugly actually."

There was another snort from Beast. Long ago, in shallow niche covered by a convenient tapestry; young Prince Adam had hid in hopes of avoiding his music lessons. While he waited, he had heard the voices of a small group of maids agreeing on that same point. But most had also agreed that good looks evened the score by far. At the time, Prince Adam had grinned wickedly, knowing that his father was considered a handsome man, and that he himself greatly resembled his father. When the women had passed, he had quietly slipped away, congratulating himself and feeling very proud.

Though he felt foolish for it, he simply had to add, "Most men though, they can make up for it by being..." Beast searched for the words, "Better in other places."

Belle tilted her head so that their eyes could meet, the fingers that had played on his knuckle traced his brow, at those distinct features, Belle considered her attraction to Beast. What was it that drew her to him? The sweetness that he had finally begun to share with her? Or the softhearted vulnerability that perfectly offset his intimidating exterior? Those wonderful moments when he forgot himself, and had a happy moment with her? She thought of these things, and it made her heart swell. The intensity of the feeling made her feel alive, warm and energized. But those wouldn't cheer him up. She remembered the thrill of his tongue on her skin, his big hands squeezing her hips. Belle knew that she loved Beast, but she didn't speak till she had his eyes on hers, wanting him to see her seriousness.

"I think you're handsome," Belle said softly.

Beast snorted in disgust, "Don't lie." He looked back to their hands, his hands joined as if in prayer around the one she left in between them.

Belle let a look of exasperation cross her features, but her expression softened quickly. The fingers that had touched his face gently stroked over his cheekbone, but when he didn't respond determination quickly set in. Belle's hand wrapped around his horn and steered him to face her for a searing kiss. Her mouth crushed against his, his lips pressed tight against hers, until a soft groan opened his mouth just ever so slightly. Her tongue dared a swipe against the moist inner part of his bottom lip. Beast clasped his hand over her shoulder at the wet contact, a quick intake of breath testifying to his surprise. He tried to respond in kind but being larger, couldn't manage the finesse within her much smaller mouth. Instead he swiped over her extended tongue, nearly melting at how soft and warm it felt. Belle hummed softly in pleasure.

When Belle pulled away, she was puffing slightly, her lips darker and pouting. Brown eyes simmered up at him, and her hands gripped his shirt.

"I love you. Don't you understand? That makes you the most handsome man in the world to me."

Beast looked at the petite women lying next to him wide-eyed, his self-doubt was stunned silent. After a few seconds of quiet, Beast swallowed. A part of his mind still felt bereft that he couldn't offer her traditionally handsome features in return for her beauty and sweetness. It didn't seem fair that she, who was worthy of so much, would settle for a cursed prince with a broken crown, a foul temper and no power to his name.

"I wish you could have seen me before the curse."

Belle was slow to admit her interest, "I'd like to see what you looked like."

Beast knew he had destroyed every painting of his former self long ago. Looking down to his hands he wondered if there was any way to get out of admitting he had done just that.

"Are you sure?" Beast started, his eyes flicking up to hers, then quickly darting away, "You won't... think about it?"

Belle smiled. Of course she would think about it, but never in the way he supposed; not yearning, not disappointed, just to look at, to know, wondering.

"You don't have to show me," she assured him, "I'm just...curious." She paused, considering as her eyes rested on his chest, where the darker line of fur began and then spread downward.

She wished there was some way that she could prove it did not matter. She wished she could physically push all the doubt out his mind with her hands, rather than try to with her words and her actions. But what could she do with a picture of his old body? Try to pick out the flaws? Convince him that he was more attractive to her now than he would have been before? It didn't seem likely to work.

"You know, everyone in my town thought Gaston was handsome." she stated in an even tone. Hearing the other man's name, Beast frowned in thought, as if trying to recall some detail.

"He would ask me to marry him, he would tell me about all the sons I would give him" Belle continued, faint distaste in her voice, "he asked, demanded, that I marry him, with the whole town waiting outside, and I still told him no."

Beast suddenly remembered in a flash, the face that went with the name. Pale blue eyes and black hair, a maniacal expression on chiseled features, wielding a spire from the castle's roof as a weapon, water and darkness pouring down from the sky.

_Were you in love with her, Beast?_

Beast had barely heard what the man had said at the time. Belle was there, Belle was at the castle. He needed to live. He had a reason to live.

_Did you honestly think she'd want you, when she had someone like _me_?_

"I never said yes, because I knew that he was an ugly person, even if no one else knew." Belle reached out to stroke Beast's cheek, bringing him back, "_You_ make me happy, that's why I'm here."

There was a polite cough behind the door, and Beast jumped. The sound of steps walking away from the door followed. Embarrassed expressions were exchanged, and hasty plans were made to take a walk in the snowy garden after lunch. Beast righted his clothing and took a long look at her as he stood beside where she sat on the bed, prepared to leave, and yet not. Belle looked back, wondering what he was thinking, and feeling - belatedly, she thought - under dressed.

Beast took a single step towards the door, quickly turned back to her, pressing one soft kiss to her cheek and then hurrying from the room.

"I'll see you after lunch," he mumbled, closing the door behind him. Belle, whose hand still rested on her cheek, could have sworn he had to jerk his tail out of the way to avoid smashing it in the door in his haste.

-^---

Reviews keep this fic going. The more reviews I get, the more email I get. The more email I get, the more often I'm reminded that I have a fic to finish.

Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

It's been a while, I know, I was so nervous about posting my first sex scene. Yup, time for explicit Beast/Belle loving. Ahem, my wonderful Beta TrudiRose wasn't available to screen this one, so it might be a little rough around the edges. So let me know what you think. Thanks for sticking with us for so long!

Crepe thin layers of accumulated snow held just enough resistance to allow Belle, if she walked lightly, to move gracefully across it's surface. Beast, however, with his more substantial weight, sank to his ankles with every step he took. For now the sky withheld it's chilled offerings, and allowed them to play unperturbed.

Belle had taken a little more sleep before lunch had been served. She felt refreshed. Her countenance seemed to express this, cheeks rosy from the brisk air, eyes open wide to their softened surroundings. The cold made her breaths quick. She took down her hair in hopes of warming her neck and face, looking behind her to find that Beast had trailed a bit. She stood where she was as Beast lifted his face to the overcast sky. Reminded briefly of how her father would often do the same, she smiled.

Belle scanned her surroundings, looking for the stable perhaps, but instead her eyes fell upon the greenhouse. The normally transparent walls were caked in layers of snow, almost invisible. She wondered if the flowers were still able to bloom in their glass fortress, even in the face of winter's trials. She looked to catch Beast's eye, and found him already looking back at her. It began to snow anew. Belle took breath to suggest the greenhouse for shelter, but Beast had already begun to trudge towards her. His trajectory seemed to suggest that they both yearned for the warmth the enclosure had likely gathered.

–

A current of steaming tea rushed and whorled over itself in the thin porcelain of Reginald's tea cup as he poured from his freshly made pot. For a moment he simply observed his drink, taking in the delicate aroma of his personal mix of herbs. The trip to the market with Cogsworth had alternated between pleasant and nerve-wracking. After the close confines of the music box that had acted as his prison, it had been odd to see such a wide-open space.

The biscuits he had shared with Cogsworth had not run out yet. There were, according to his memory, three left. He went to one of the many cupboards to collect them for his tea when the kitchen door was pushed open by a small blonde boy, smiling widely. His front tooth bore a small, distinct chip.

"Good afternoon, Doctor!" The fair haired boy practically skipped into the room, then sidled up to the table. Reginald felt a pang of fear for his fragile tea set. Chip looked into the cup, wrinkling his nose at the unfamiliar smell, the odd color.

"What's this?"

"Violet tea." Reginald replied blankly. Then, in a knee-jerk fashion, he asked. "Where is your mother?"

"Momma's taking a bath, she said she wanted quiet." Chip looked into the pot, lifting the lid to peer inside. "It's not purple."

"The title refers to the flower, not the color, boy," The older man's tone was weary, but the boy did not seem to notice.

"Is it for medicine?" Chip inquired, eyeing the biscuits in the doctors hand sharply.

"It has some soothing qualities." Reginald placed one of the three biscuits on the table near the boy, hoping that had been the child's intent all along. To his relief Chip took the treat and gave the doctor a toothy grin.

"Thanks!" he chirped, he took his first bite, "Do you know where Belle is?"

The doctor had his suspicions, having arrived at Beast's room for a general check-up to find it empty. After a cursory search, he had seen Lumiere coming from the east wing with a knowing grin on his face. Upon eye contact Lumiere's expression had instantly fell flat and bored. It was not like Lumiere to hide his flirtations.

"She is spending time with the Master, most likely. Don't go looking for her, you understand?"

Chip pouted and turned to leave with the remainder of his treat, already pondering ways to entertain himself while he waited for Belle to reappear.

–

Whether through the properties of the greenhouse, or some mysterious magic, the flowers had not ceased to bloom. Belle opened the door and stepped in with Beast close behind her. She had never seen such a lush and wide variety of flowers in all her life. They crowded each other as if they had been allowed to outgrow whatever original design they had been planted for. Stems intertwining, vine roses climbed and intermingled as they chose amongst the foliage of honeysuckle and other colorful fauna.

"Oh, how beautiful!" she exclaimed, looking around in wonder and going to a large bush of yellow roses, their petals tipped with pink. She cupped her hands around an open bloom and inhaled deeply with closed eyes. Beast watched her as he shut the glass door behind himself. Belle turned back to him, smiling. Beast smiled lightly back, taking her hand and leading her to sit on a stone bench near a wall lined with trailing ivy. She followed happily, leaning against him as they sat, her head resting against his chest as his arm settled comfortably around her. In the quiet they could hear the shush of snow as it began to fall anew.

"My mother had this built," he rumbled, after a time. Belle turned her head to meet his eyes. After a beat of silence Beast continued.

"I didn't come here after... She was ill and she couldn't return from her travels." Beast looked at the grassy ground, remembering the letter that had been sent, ten years ago at least. How crisp and formal it had been, written by the queen's own physician, informing young prince Adam that his mother would no longer be able to take long trips away from his elder brother's castle, much less to the other side of France.

"What was she like?"

"She was... nice. Like Mrs. Potts, but thinner." Beast realized that he could barely remember her. "You would have liked her."

"Did she pass away?" she laid her hand on his knee, cautious sympathy on her face.

"She was sick for a long time, Belle." he didn't want to talk on the subject anymore. He felt an inevitable conclusion coming and the prospect put a pit in his stomach. He angled his face away from her, but kept his arm around her.

"You don't know?" Belle asked in surprise.

His body tensed in response as if he had been struck, his voice took on a deep growl. "_Belle_,-" He cut himself short to recompose himself and took a breath. "If she were alive, I wouldn't want her to know that... I am." It had been years since he had decided that, but saying the words aloud had hurt.

"Oh," Belle responded. She had forgotten that the curse was a shameful secret. Then she remembered something else with a quick intake of breath. She looked to his somber expression and rose up to her knees to give him a fortifying kiss. Her movement caused him to look up, and he greeted her offering with an eagerness that spoke deeply of relief. She pulled softly away to break it, adjusting the lapel of his over shirt and smoothing it flat.

"Just one more question?" she queried gently. Beast sighed silently, but nodded.

"What happened, on the night that you... changed?"

His face twisted. Belle settled back on the bench, eyes looking at him with her full attention. She scooted close to him, taking the hand on his lap and holding it on her own lap, giving his large finger a light squeeze of encouragement.

"It was Christmas..." He started out, speaking deliberately. Belle nodded, she knew that part.

"It was snowing, and I was in the dining hall with Cogsworth, and Lumiere and Mrs. Potts."

"How old were you?"

Beast fought the urge to counter that she had only asked for one more question, and took a moment to recall. "Eleven." He stated with certainty. Belle felt her spark of anger for the sorcerer reignite. Beast paused, and when she asked no more questions he continued.

"Someone knocked at the door. I was bored, so I answered it."

Beast paused again. The rough pad of his thumb petted her soft hand for comfort on the warmth of her thigh. Belle was nearly at the edge of her seat, restraining herself from pushing him to continue. She knew Lumiere was right, this would be a hard story for anyone to tell, but Beast looked literally weighed down by the burden, he stared down at the grass as he spoke.

"There was an old beggar women outside, and she had a rose. She wanted to give it to me so she could come inside." His voice was starting to sound strained. He took a breath "I was angry at her, I thought maybe she was trying to trick me somehow, and she was... ugly. So I told her to leave."

Suddenly the pieces were coming together for Belle.

"She wouldn't leave though. I told her she would not be allowed into the castle. And then she _changed_. She rose up in the air, and she glowed, and she said that because," Beast's free hand clutched his knee. "Because my heart had no love, I would be a, a _monster_."

The muscles in his arm tensed with the word, his claws digging into his pant leg. "I tried to apologize. I offered her a room, but." no, he had begged her to take his room, even his father's. His hand went from his knee to slide down over his face.

"She was beautiful when she did it, Belle. She looked like an angel."

He glanced to her, his hand still held by hers. Belle looked odd, as if on the verge of one emotion but still planted in another. Her mind was full of revelations, her nature yearned to mull them over, but there would be plenty of time to think about it later.

"Beast, I'm so sorry." she whispered. Using her free hand to rub his forearm through his sleeve and laying it over his hand in her lap, cradling his hand as best she could in both of hers.

Beast's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. "You don't think I deserved it?" Belle tilted her head, not quite sure how to phrase what she thought. "You were just a boy. It doesn't seem fair, especially now."

Beast nodded, looking down to their hands. There was a sense of vindication in her understanding that soothed him. Although he knew that his behavior had been cruel, and was ashamed of his past selfishness. He was glad she had asked, but hoped they were done talking about it.

"But," Belle's eyes grew glassy, and Beast looked up. Belle squeezed his hand, gathering up her courage. "That wasn't what I was talking about." Looking thoughtful, Beast rubbed his thumb along the side of Belle's palm, remaining quiet and watching her face.

"That rose I saw in the west- in your room, it didn't have long when I saw it." Beast lowered his eyes, brows furrowing as he looked down at their hands. "When I left, you must have known, you _must_ have known that it was going to run out."

Beast's head shot up, "Who tol-"

"Wait," Belle said with another squeeze to his hand. "But you let me go anyway," she looked straight into his eyes, "How could you have done that? If you had just told me," her breath hitched. She would have told him she loved him that night, if she had only known. She wasn't sure if she should say it though. She looked away to wipe tears she felt gathering. "I never would have let you be trapped in a body you don't want. Even though I-"

"Your father was dying." Beast replied, his voice somber, "And I didn't let you say goodbye."

Belle heard his words like a stab to the heart. She doubted that he had gotten the chance to say goodbye to his parents. She rose up on her knees to embrace him and he brought her close gladly. He pressed his lips against her collar bone, the upper part of his face was nearly encased in her hair, and he inhaled deeply. Her scent brought with it a sense of calm that he felt around experimentally before settling into. He kissed her warm skin as he let the breath go. Belle felt his kiss and pressed a gentle kiss of her own on his temple. She felt a little guilty for making him talk about such heavy subjects, but it needed to be done. She ran her hand gently over the velvet texture of his ear, considering. Beast's slow, heated breaths dispersed over her shoulder and across her chest contrasting with the stagnant and tepid air of the greenhouse. She dipped her head and brought her hand to cup his ear near her lips.

"I had a dream about you last night." she whispered warmly.

Beast shuddered, and Belle felt his ear shift in her hand. He shifted his weight, and she bit her lip. Beast lifted his head, but looked downward.

"Was it a good dream?" he asked, flicking his eyes to hers, his tail swished over the stone bench.

"Of course." she said simply. Not keen to make eye contact either, she released his ear and settled into his lap. His arm went around her without a thought, she rested comfortably against his bicep.

"Tell me." he urged, his hand rested on her knee, giving a soft squeeze to emphasize.

Belle blushed, and brought her hand to her cheek feeling the warmth through her fingers. She had started this after all, and he deserved to hear it. Beast's eyes were heavy on her. His arms wrapped around her as Belle drew her arms about his neck and brought his ear closer to her lips. It was easier to speak when she didn't feel so watched.

"We were on the balcony, outside of the dance hall. It was night, and the stars were out. I was wearing the yellow dress." Belle smiled, "We were dancing in the moonlight, and my dress started to fall apart." Belle felt her fiance's legs moving beneath her. "I saw that your clothes were falling off too, like the stitches were disappearing. But we didn't stop dancing." Beast's hands flexed where they rested on Belle's body. The fingers of one hand spreading over her side, the other petting her outer thigh. She kissed his high cheek bone.

"When there weren't any clothes left, we stopped dancing. And you saw me, and I wasn't embarrassed, I felt so beautiful." A soft, short groan escaped from Beast at this. "We saw each other, and there was nothing but love between us." Belle felt herself responding to the memory as she spoke. "We kissed, and we... touched each other..." She trailed off as she felt his grip on her tighten. Belle squirmed in Beast's lap, heart pounding at his groan, longer and low. There was a touch of something bestial in the lilt of his utterance, and it thrilled her. She caressed his hand at her side, feeling the shape of muscle and bone beneath the softness of his fur. Beast kissed her throat, the hand on her thigh moved to knead the softness there. She sighed and tilted her head to rest against his ruff, she rubbed her cheek into the coolness, then turned her face to nuzzle towards the warmth of his skin. Her body ached for the feelings that had arose in her dreams. At the risk of being too forward, she wanted to revisit the place they had arrived at just this morning, lost in the pleasure of sensation, numb to guilt and self-consciousness. The hand that rested over his on her side gently hinted him towards her breasts.

Beast felt strangely shell shocked, he had shared his most shameful moment with her, and Belle had swept it away so easily. He almost questioned whether he had actually told her anything. But, when her warmth had ghosted across his ear, he let the thought drop. Almost instantly he was back to were they had left off in her bedroom. The heated passion rebuilt as if they hadn't paused. Beast felt the pinch of his erection returning, and could only spare a second to think about it, before he felt Belle's hand pressing his higher.

Beast held his breath as his hand rose slowly up her ribcage, till his length of his thumb was pressed along the underside of her left breast. He paused, then lightly ran his thumb over the top, following the contour of it. Belle gave a short whimper and pressed her body tighter against his with a shudder, sending a flare of arousal shooting up his spine. He brought his hand to rest along the side of her breast, running the pad of his thumb over the silk of her winter dress. Searching for and finding the press of her nipple, he rubbed his finger deliberately up and down over it, his other hand rubbed over her outer thigh nervously. He felt Belle rubbing her legs together, felt her shudder and press herself harder into his hand.

"Oh, Belle." he managed, the pulse between his legs growing stronger as the scent of her arousal grew more heady. Belle's efforts to press her body close spoke loudly to him. He took hold of her flank and with an arm across her back he lifted her. Beast tried in vain to position her over his lap. Her dress restrained her from straddling him, till she rucked it up about her hips, looking him in the eye as she did it, flushed with lust. Her petticoats were edged with velvet that matched her dress, and Beast couldn't help but wonder if perhaps she had chosen them with purpose.

Their hips close together, Belle's legs embraced his waist. Beast held an arm across her back so that she could lean comfortably as he cupped each breast, one after the other, in his palm. He reveled at the sensation of that soft mound yielding beneath his hand, the press of her roused flesh at the center of his palm. The flush on her cheeks spread till it disappeared beneath the top of her dress. Belle combed her

fingers though the bottom of his ruff, petted his cheek as her breath quickened. Squeezing gently, Beast applied thoughtful pressure until he was sure she wanted more. He kissed her and began to knead her breasts, wishing that both of his hands were free, feeling a strange need to fulfill her symmetry. Belle gasped through her nose at the intense sensation, arching her back with a soft moan and placing more weight in his lap, Beast's hips jerked upward. He broke their kiss with a growl.

"Belle." he repeated his voice barely above a whisper as her name rumbled from his throat. Belle's skin rose with goosebumps at the sound of her name in that tone. Her hand pressed his hand on her breast, speaking in a dreamy voice, "That feels wonderful". Belle had never imagined just how visceral this stimulation would be, she felt drunk on it. Even her dreams paled in comparison.

His hips rose up, slowly, into her again "Belle",

Belle felt him between her legs, firm against her sex through his clothes and her petticoats. She gently rocked her hips forward and her eyelids dropped as Beast let out a low, frustrated whine. She felt his muscles tense, his arm round her tighten with her movement, the hand at her breast paused, as she continued to move breathy exhalations followed her rhythm. She looked up to his face to see that his eyes were closed, brows furrowed. The intense pleasure he showed in her slight movements incensed her, and made her stare at the large bulge between them, wondering. She took a deep breath, and reached her hand down to grip him as best she could through his pants, sliding her hand firmly down and back up again.

The response she received was electric. His hands held her against him and his head went back with a strangled roar, thrusting into her hand before he could stop himself. Belle's arm was pinned between them, unable to move, her cheek against his chest.

"I need room to keep going," Belle whispered, squeezing him gently between her fingers. Beast whimpered softly, his hips hitching into her hand. Anxiety at how hard it was to stop, to make himself still pulled at Beast's bliss; her frame was so slight, so fragile...

Words were slow to come to him in this state, but her name came easily. "Belle" he said, his voice pleading.

"Let me," she replied in a soothing voice. A few moments passed, and he released his tight hold on her. Belle felt more warm and powerful than perhaps she ever had, her curiosity for him peaked.

"I want to touch you."

He nodded, leaning back against the cold glass wall behind their bench, his chest billowing, spreading his knees as Belle situated herself to pleasure him more comfortably. She resumed stroking him through his clothing. Belle paused a second to comprehend how big he was in her hand, thick and throbbing to the touch. Beast squirmed and she continued, cupping him with her hand and sliding in a steady rhythm over the cloth, up and down.

Beast was far gone from himself, pleasure radiating from his core. He tries to recall a single moment in his life that has ever felt so good. His eyes close tightly as he gives up on trying to think, his hands come up to cover his face, almost seeking refuge from the overwhelm of his senses. Then he brings them down to the bench, to hold the stone in his flexing grip.

Belle blatantly stares as a spot of wetness forms and grows over the head of the bulge in Beast's pants. Glancing up to his face, and feeling a little triumph at the mask of pleasure she sees, she runs the fingertips of her free hand lightly over the area. Beast gives out a low groan, his legs shifting further apart. Belle's bites her lips, circling over the spot again as she continues to stroke him. Her fingertips find a small pit at the top of him and with a jolt she realizes what it must be. She feels him twitch against her hand through the cloth as she rubs along the indention. A quick grunt escapes Beast at the sensation, his eyes open shortly, try to focus, but quickly close again.

Belle runs her soft hand further down his length, curious to puzzle together what she could while she pleasured her Beast. Without preamble, her fingers sensed what she had already guessed. It felt as though he had an extra layer of thick skin around the base of him. She takes in the truth of it without pause and brings her hand lower. The material of his fine linen pants leave enough room to manipulate him, and the warm heft of his sac in her hand makes her lips part with surprise at the size, one hand failing to cup the whole of it. Beast takes an audible breath and shifts his weight at the feeling of being lifted. Belle's other hand quickly resumes stroking him as she continues to fondle, her pace climbing with her own excitement. Beast moans toward the ceiling of the greenhouse, his deep voice no longer quiet, anxiety swallowed up by anticipation. Belle thrilled at the sound of it. His body seemed to be going taut, his legs straight and his feet pointed, flexing. The tension he gave off poured from him as Belle watched him, enthralled and endlessly aroused at his increasing response. Thoughts humming, Belle felt enticed to see him come, wanted to see it happen right then, right before her eyes.

"Beast" Belle whispered, heat and pressure swirling in her own loins, her hands slowed, "Do you want to finish?" she asked, her voice perhaps a bit more eager than she would have chosen. Beast nodded sharply, breathless.

"But your pants...how will you get back inside the castle?"

Beast needed this, needed it. Two long days of foreplay and no release had him desperate. Belle's fingertips brushed lightly over his tip again and he gritted his teeth as his decision was made.

"I'll-", Beast paused, embarrassed. "I'll cover it with my cape. Belle..."

Beast felt Belle's hand resume it's quick rubbing motions and his head fell back in relief. The fur that lined his spine rose as a goosebumps sensation sprawled over his torso. In a distant way, through the thick haze of pleasure, he knew that her hands would tell her plenty of what he had hoped to keep from her. As his muscles tightened his vulnerable ego was bathed and reborn in ethereal acceptance. He felt pressure within him, and as it built a subconscious sense of relinquishment built with it. To trust the strength of her love even with all of his flaws laid before her became easier with every stroke. He could feel pre-come soaking through his pants. The thought of Belle's bare skin touching it both repulsed him and caused him to twitch in her grasp. Her hand paused only a second, but Beast glanced at her glowing face to see her smile, her eyes fixed to his lower half. She readjusted herself and beast felt both of her hands encircle him more completely, the narrow channel she created increasing his pleasure all the more.

A wave of euphoria washed over him, and Beast opened his eyes to lock with Belle's. He took a deep breath through his nose and mouth, and with the sweet, tepid air came the smell that he had been introduced to only hours earlier. The must that belonged only to Belle, only with him. As Belle's eyes widened his vision sharpened, and every detail imprinted itself upon him. Instantaneously, Beast knew that he would never forget this second. The euphoria solidified within him, shortening his breaths, his hands tore away from their grip on the stone bench and grabbed for Belle, his hands clenching over her hips as he began to thrust in her hands. He felt his body trying to roar, but didn't have the breath. Short, quavering, throaty moans escaped him without filter.

Belle fought the urge to pet him, knowing he was close, but it was hard not to while he was in such an expressive state. To see the man that had shown so little of himself to her at the beginning, exposing these frayed ends to her touch. She wanted to run her hand along his tight abdomen and feel it move with his quick breath, wanted to stretch up and kiss him. Watching his pupils expand right before her eyes in such a dramatic fashion had thrilled her to her bones and she longed to lean across him and look into those alluring new moons. All the same she kept her pace, cupping as much of him as his pants would allow as she rubbed him.

"Oh" he murmured, his voice rose an octave "Belle". His trembling fists, clenching in her dress, pulled at her as his eyes widened.

A loud groan followed as the thick member between Belle's hands pulsed, Beast gave out a stunted roar with the first, his hips hitching upward in unison with the sound. Then Beast melted, his frame relaxed of all tension as Belle watched the dark spot in his pants grow. With a feeling of relief she stretched over him and brushed his bottom lip with hers as one hand continued to lightly stroke him. She felt another pulse from his member, followed by another, each one synced with some subtle movement of his hips.

Beast breathed deeply. Sentiment gushed from him as he felt her kiss and looked to see her face, rosy and picturesque, looking back at him.

"I love you," he rumbled, pulling her closer as he sat up. He felt unbalanced in the most pleasant of ways, his fiance serving as the anchor of his attention. Belle began to stand, holding his hand as she did.

"I love you, too" she murmured bashfully, averting her eyes even as she held to his fingers.

In the sensual languor of his orgasm, Beast could not stand for her discomfort, not with the cloying feeling of devotion that she had stirred in him. The answer seemed simple in his mind. He stood, and maneuvered her to sit back on the bench. Belle looked at him in confusion. In a fluid motion, he kneeled before her and pulled her dress up to her lap.

Belle had almost spoken before she felt the rough nap of his tongue drag across her through her petticoats. Her sex, more swollen and aroused than it had ever been in her entire life, flooded sensation all through her, down to the tips of her toes. Her breath hitched as her nipples rose anew to points beneath her clothing.

Beast relished her taste. Her smell fulfilled some strange part of him and fueled him to continue on a cloud of ardour and instinct. He watched her face as her head went back and a sense achievement filled him. With her eyes turned away, Beast opened his jaw wider, aware of the incidental exposure of his fearsome teeth and carefully placed his mouth over the entirety of her, sucking her experimentally as his tongue lapped insistently for the channel betwixt her nether lips.

As the warm, wet sensations campaigned for free-reign over her, she rallied the faded memories of intrusive aunts passing along their judgmental marriage advice. With a deep breath she braced her hands on his head, there would be other times for this, they would have the rest of their lives together to ...explore. Although, petting her hands over the silken fur on his dome and running her palms over his velveteen ears before taking him by the horns to lead him further was the most gratifying thought she had ever had about a man.

She gave a gentle but resolute push. "Beast," her voice was not near as level as she had intended.

Beast growled amiably and tilted his head to accommodate her hands, only to bring his mouth to the inseam of her petticoats, gripping it between his teeth and tugging sharply, his adoring gaze locked on her face. New moons set in day-blue skies. It seemed the Belle's second of hesitation as she took them in was all the permission Beast needed to rip his way to true contact. Belle gasped as the rough nap of his tongue rasped across her entrance and lit her with lightening when it swiped quickly over her clitoris. Beast rumbled with drowsy pleasure at her response and the concentrated taste of her on his tongue. Her hands had gone into a clutch. It almost felt as though she had the wind knocked from her. But then the second swipe came and all she could do was open herself for him and groan long and loud at how good it was.

Beast easily lifted her legs to rest over his broad shoulders. Then he leaned to drink more deeply. Using the force of his jaw and neck to increase the pressure of his tongue on her. But to his surprise, his tongue was blocked by her pale hand cupping her sex. Her knees hugged the side of his head. "Not so ha-," Belle stopped with a shudder, then in a whisper. "Not yet."

There was a pause in his movements. He lifted his head from the grasp of her knees, pulling her dress just short of his soft kiss on her inner knee before covering the warm spot. As if exhausted by the effort, Beast slumped forward, laying his cheek on her lap. Careful of his horns, even now, he sighed deeply and contentedly as he ran his hands over the cloth of her dress.

"You can have this too Belle." he pressed his face into her lap and breathed deeply, his huge hands traced the curves of her upper thighs.

"I want you to have this. ...If you want it."

"I do" her hands rested lightly on his cheek and the dome of his head. "I just... It's all new, I guess I'm nervous." She gave a soft half smile, petting his head peacefully despite the heat between her legs.

"I feel like, on our wedding night" Belle paused to search for the words, "It'll feel right, like I'm doing the right thing."

Beast exhaled deeply. He had always heard peasants enjoyed healthy sex lives, but Belle was bound to be different in that respect as she was in so many others. He closed his eyes and saw her pale, shapely legs angled open for him and nuzzled her legs at the thought, releasing another hot breath on the folds of her dress. Her hand stroked his ear in her loose grip, and she sighed softly.

"Do you want to go back to the castle?" He asked, raising his face to look at her. She smiled to see his still large pupils.

Belle nodded, and as Beast rose from his kneeling position she saw his tongue tracing his lips. It sent an odd pulse through her to see the proof of what he had tried, and to feel her wet thighs rubbing against one another where her petticoats had been torn. Beast looked back to her once she had stood, his hand wiping at his beard and the surrounding areas of his mouth.

"I can still taste you." He murmured in a rumbling tone. He looked down to his hand, and though he could see nothing, fought the urge to lick his palm. Pulling his purple cloak around him, he saw the Belle was red-faced and looking uncomfortable.

Belle looked down, laughing softly. Struggling not to ask him what she tasted like, she went to stand beside him. Beast was quick to open his cloak for her to share his warmth, and Belle couldn't help a final glance at his groin as she went to lean against him. The massive bulge had definitely diminished somewhat, but the wet cloth clung to him. Belle felt the pang of her own unfulfilled need at the sight and pressed her face into his side, nuzzling him.

They stood close to the door but had not moved. Belle looked to his face to find him staring at her, his expression full of adoration. One clawed finger tenderly traced her cheek and went to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She noted that this was the longest she had ever seen his pupils stay so large and wondered if the rest of the castle would notice.

Belle took his hand in hers and kissed it.

"Are you uncomfortable?" she asked softly.

"No," Beast replied, he had the fierce need to kiss her but restrained himself rather than risk her distaste. "Are you?"

Belle shook her head, extending an arm across his back and just managing to rest it on his waist.

"Let's go," she stated, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt.

Beast nodded and opened the door to the greenhouse a blast of cold wind welcomed them back outdoors, and they huddled closely together beneath the large purple cloak as they made a hasty retreat back to their home.

Seeing no one on their entrance into the castle, Beast took a moment to shake himself free of the accumulated snowflakes that had gathered on his head and neck, just as soon as Belle had stepped clear of course. Giggling at his antics, Belle waited until he had wrapped his cloak back around himself before suggesting they both change into fresh attire. They agreed, but as Belle climbed the stairs, she hoped she would run into one of the servants on the way to her room so she could ask for a warm bath to be made.

Beast watched her as she climbed the stairs, it felt wrong to let her go to a separate room, especially when he had such a strong yearning to be near her swelling in his chest. Finally Beast tore his eyes away from her shifting backside and began to climb the stairs himself. Halfway up he breathed in deeply through his nose for one last whiff of Belle's fresh arousal and was met with the disconcerting scent of every person who lived in the castle.

He huffed through his nose to try and clear it, but with minimal success. Chamberpots, sweat, sex and frustration blanketed his sense of smell. He was still adjusting to Belle's solitary scent being crowded in with the other human bodies now present in the castle. Beast continued to climb the stairs as he shook his head and grunted. His mind drifted easily back to the warm memory in the cold garden, although his stomach tightened to remember Belle looking at his sex so directly.

Once he reached his room he walked hesitantly to a broken mirror, inspecting himself for what she might have seen. In it's resting state, he thought it looked ambiguous at best. He ran a hand over the wet spot and grimaced at the tacky sensation. He stepped away from the mirror and removed his pants, scanning his room for a bowl of water and a cloth to cleanse himself with.

Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed it!

Please let me know what you thought about the 'sex' scene, it was my first and I want to know how I did.

Two more chapters to go. :) Don't forget that your reviews help remind me to keep writing. My 3 to you all.


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